Chapter Text
- Tony
He liked her legs. It took Darcy a while to figure it out. She thought he’d be more about the tits - as so many guys were. But no, he liked her legs. Liked her skinny jeans, and her leggings, and her occasional penchant for tube-socks and booty-shorts (he liked the last one best).
“That’s hardly lab-appropriate attire Lewis.” He gestured to her lap with his screwdriver, catching the flat-head on the edge of her shorts. Tony was all about pajama days. Insisted on them even. Unlike Jane who had insisted Darcy where pants all the time.
She grinned like a shark, and crossed her legs at the knees where she was perched on Tony’s desk. It made her shorts ride up, exposing another few inches of pale flesh. She wasn’t toned, never felt particularly attractive this close to naked, but Tony seemed to like it. Darcy couldn’t help but find confidence in that. Tony Stark liked the way she looked, chubby thighs included. “I could take it off?”
So yeah, maybe she encouraged it. So she liked the attention of billionaire philanthropist playboys. What the fuck ever. Who wouldn't? They’d played like this before, wicked banter, and comments that flirted the line between come-ons and sexual harassment.
Tony paused for half a moment, mouth pulling into a grin as he gestured to Butterfingers at the end of the table. “In front of the children Darcy? Scandalous.”
“Really?” Darcy poked him in the hip with her foot, before dragging her toes down his thigh. “You’re telling me you’ve never fucked the lab?”
He looked up at her, blinking. “Were we talking about fucking in the lab? I thought we were talking about your terrible choice in sleep attire. They have Batman logos, Darcy. Batman. You live with actual superheros.”
“If you hate them that much, take them off yourself.” She leaned back on the table, propped on her hands. “We could be, you know.”
He reached out, fingers brushing over the short sleeve of her t-shirt. That was new. They didn’t normally touch. Not with hands, anyway. Never so overtly. “Mmhm. Could be what?”
It’s a now-or-never kind of moment, but given the build up, the UST if you will, Darcy isn’t all that nervous. “We could be fucking in the lab.”
Tony pauses, fingertips light against the skin of her arm. “Is that on the table?”
Boldly, Darcy unfolds her legs, and lets them fall open slightly. “In the literal sense.”
He moves between them smoothly, and lets his hands fall to her bare thighs. His palms are hot, burning against her skin, and Darcy feels her heart speed up. “I’m pretty sure there’s something about this in the company handbook. Fraternizing, or interpersonal relationships, or something. I don’t know; I didn’t read it. Did you read it?”
“No, and if we didn’t read it, it doesn’t exist,” Darcy suggests, hooking her legs around his, to pull him closer.
He pushes against her hands when she threads them into his hair, nails scratching at the nape of his neck. It makes his lashes flutter. “What about ah...our working relationship? I’d hate for this to affect our...fuck. Our productivity.”
“It sounds like you’re trying to tell me no,” she points out, as she dips her finger tips into the waist of his jeans. They are so going to fuck on this lab table. “If you’re really worried, we can clock out. It’s not like you use your lunch break for eating.”
“That depends on the menu,” Tony says suddenly, dipping down to nip at her neck. “There are just some spreads I can’t resist.”
She laughs when he sends You for condoms.
“What? We can’t sent Butterfingers for obvious reasons, and Dum-E has pinchers for fingers.” His fingers slip inside her, curling just so, and Darcy gasps. “God, you make me feel terrible.” His words don’t stop him from fucking into her with another fingers. “Like a dirty old man. You’re trouble.”
Darcy is good at reading people, always has been. Tony likes trouble. Likes doing things he knows he shouldn’t. Likes doing them best when he knows he’ll get caught. Fucking your jail-bait assistant on a lab table is right up his alley. He likes trouble, and he likes naughtybadwrong. So when she pushes down his jeans, and says, “I could call you daddy,” she’s not surprised when Tony blushes, cock twitching against her thigh.
It’s easy sailing after that. Tony fucks like a machine which is appropriate, really. He’s methodical and rough, all firm-hands and stubble. He fucks her like a metronome, smooth, solid, steady thrusts that never ease up. She feels heat coil and build, and build, and build until it explodes (he’s good at that, explosions, fire, burning, heat), too big to handle, leaving her out-of-control and breathless.
- Clint
Jesus Christ. Clint Barton. Darcy cannot even. That man is ridiculous. Just...she gets a little silly just thinking about him. It isn’t like Tony who’s smooth words and coy looks emboldened her to play. Clint’s arm muscles make her fucking swoon. His ass ain’t that bad either. Darcy can’t even words. Or she can, but she shouldn’t. She can’t even be around him because she doesn’t know where to look. It’s all too fucking much.
“He likes his women forward. Make the first move,” Natasha says one day, as she’s correcting Darcy’s stance on the gym mats, moving her elbow, and straightening out her leg. “Go big, or go home. He likes that.”
Darcy swings her leg out, just like Natasha taught her. “What if he turns me down?”
Grabbing her by the ankle, Natasha stares at her. “He won’t.”
He doesn't.
Darcy takes Natasha’s advice to heart. And then she takes her shirt off. If Clint wants big, well...Darcy has that (un)covered. There’s no real build up. Natasha wouldn’t lie to her, Darcy figures. And Nat knows Clint best.
It happens like this. They’re alone in the weight room, working the ropes. He’s been teaching her evasion, teaching her to hide, to run, and duck, and blend. She’ll never be a super assassin, that’s for damn sure. Darcy sucks at climbing; her center of gravity is shit, but she’s quick on her feet regardless.They’re sweaty, and panting, and have been pressed together for the good part of two hours. Clint is very hands on. Darcy likes that about him. So she takes her shirt off. It’s just as effective as she thought it would be.
“Oh, fuck yes ,” Clint says, going straight for the kill. He cups both tits, one in each hand, and face plants into her cleavage. He licks her there, tastes the salt of their tension. Doesn’t seem to care that she’s hot, and sweaty. Seems intent on getting her hotter, at any rate. “Jesus Christ. Can I fuck them?”
“Sure,” she says, almost conversationally, as he pinches her nipple through two layers of sports bras. Her panties are already soaked, it’s nearly embarrassing. “Make me come first?”
He lifts his face up from the press of her tits, eyes narrowed, and thoughtful. “I’m going to need you to sit on my face.”
Some how, she ends up naked, knees spread on the mat, riding Clint’s face, and the only thing keeping her from suffocating him are her hands clenched around the hanging rope.
He doesn’t seem to care about breathing, only seems to care about ruining her forever. He has both arms hooked around her thighs, biceps bulging as he pulls her harder against him. It’s sloppy, messy, filthy and audibly wet. Darcy can’t fucking breath for how goddamn hot it is.
She’s pretty sure she spends the next three days with beard burn on her ass hole.
- Steve
Steve lives one floor above her, and they often share an elevator on the reg. They’re friendly, but not exactly friends, per se.
Nods of greeting in the hallway friendly, general recognition of shared social circle friendly. There’s thirty-two seconds between the common floor and Darcy’s, that they usually spend in companionable silence.
So when Darcy decides to mix it up one day, and asks him how his day went, she’s not expecting him to reply with “I thought about you naked.” He looks horrified at his own mouth, a rush of red stealing over his perfect cheekbones. “I am so so sorry, Ms. Lewis. I didn’t...mean to say that out loud. I mean, I wasn't...well I was, but----”
There’s a lot of things one could say to that kind of accidental revelation. Probably. She can’t think of any, except one burning question. “Like? Right now?”
“What?” He blinks at her, eyes wide. His cheeks are a very patriotic shade of red “What?”
“Are you thinking about me naked right now ?”
“Uh.” His gaze slides helplessly over her body. She’s wearing the batman shorts that Tony hates, and a childs medium t-shirt, emblazoned with the Hulk’s grinning, cartoon face. “Um.”
The elevator doors slide open, her floor. Darcy holds her hand against the door, keeping them from closing. “Do you want to see me naked?"
"Oh! Um. Really? Yeah. Yes. Please. Thank you."
The shirt’s a lost cause even before she gets her apartment door shut behind them, and it’s only the Grace of Gods and her hands on his dick through his jeans that keep him from tearing her shorts off too. (She likes these shorts; Tony hates them).
- Thor.
Darcy tells Jane about fucking Tony and Clint and Steve. Because duh, they are lady-bros, and lady-bros spill all. Or at least Darcy does. Jane is surprisingly tight-lipped about she and Thor’s sex life, much to Darcy’s dismay.
Or at least, she is until she isn’t.
“So...” Jane says slowly, hands still on her keyboard. “Casual sex is a thing you do?”
Darcy frowns, something uncomfortable unfurling in her gut. “Sometimes. With people I trust. I’m not a one-night stand kind of girl. I wouldn’t sleep with just anyone. But...sex can just be fun. It doesn’t have to be more.” She squirms a little. “Maybe it’s not like that for you---”
“It is!” Jane insists, looking worried. “I mean, it was before Thor. I wasn’t judging you Darcy. I was just...clarifying.”
“Alright,” Darcy says, still feeling a little judged. Why did Jane even need to clarify?
It makes sense, two days later when Thor finds her alone in the apartment she and Jane share. Jane is nowhere to be found even though she told Darcy to wait there for her. Apparently, she’s going to be late. That’s okay. Darcy will hunt her down in the office later.
“Darcy,” Thor greets her, crushing her into a spine-breaking hug. Darcy doesn’t mind. If she sneaks in a little feel-up, well. Who can blame her? The man is cut to cuddle. “Just the lady I was looking for.”
“What’s up Thor?” She’s not in any real rush to be anywhere. Tony had mentioned stopping by for lunch , but she’s not the type of girl who blows her friends off for a good lay. Mostly. Depends on what Thor wants.
“The lovely Lady Jane has told me that you are open to taking male companions for the pure pleasure of it, without the commitment of betrothal or bonding. It is a thing done widely on Asgard among the noble ladies. I had not thought Midgard shared such customs.”
Darcy stares at him for a moment and waits for her brain to translate. “Wait...Jane told you I was DTF?” He pauses too, though his brain doesn’t seem to get it. It’s not the first time the Allspeak has failed to translate her correctly. “Down to fuck.”
“Ah...yes. Was she incorrect?” He stares at her then, with wide eyes. “I mean no disrespect! It is a choice a lady may make on her own, I judge you not either way.”
“No I do...that. I mean, I’m not...Okay, yes. Sometimes I have sex with people I’m not dating,” she says plainly. “For the pleasure of it. Why Jane told you is beyond me, but thank you for your...kind words, regarding my private....time. That I share with other people...”
Thor stares at her for a long moment. “Jane sent me to you,” he says slowly, shifting on his feet in a way he only ever does when he’s feeling awkward. “Spring has come to birth around us. On Asgard, this would be cause for glorious celebration. The lands bring to seed a new generation, and so do the people of my planet. We go...quite mad for it. Here on Midgard, I had thought to do the same but Jane is...she is not the type of blossom who could stand such hearty...planting.”
Again, Darcy pauses because what? “Are you telling me Jane can’t handle your pon farr?”
“I know not of this Pon Farr, but if you mean to say that Jane would not withstand my planets heartier customs than you are correct.” He frowns for a moment, eyes furrowed. “You and Jane are different parts of the same rose. She is the delicate blossom, of whom I would surely crush were I to take her as I often wish during this celebration of my people. And you Lady Darcy, are the thorn to cut my palms should my hands grip too firmly. But I find that I like the blood of battle and passion boths.Do you understand?”
Darcy...does. Sort of. “Are you....are you propositioning me? Oh my God, Thor! Jane is my best friend---”
“My Jane sent me to you,” Thor says again, just as slowly as the first time. He reaches forward, and catches both her hands in one of his own. “She told me that you might be inclined to grant me this, for you trust me and find me to your liking physically. She also said you survived quite heartily, the likes of Stark, Barton and the Captain, and I think that if your body does bend to the likes of my dear friends, it too should sustain my own---”
“Jane needs to shut her whore mouth.”
“So it is not so out wild a guess that you can withstand what I might offer as well,” Thor presses on, eyes keen. “Darcy Lewis, will you at least consider me as a companion?”
“I need a minute.” She sits on the couch and stares at the wall for exactly sixty seconds. “So...you’re propositioning me for rough, kinky, Asgardian sex because you think I can take it?”
Thor’s eyes narrow as he stares down at her, looking every bit the part of some haughty prince. “I know you can.”
Fucking Thor is like nothing Darcy has ever imagined. His dick is huge, but she takes it. Lets him push right in, gasping at the tight clutch of her cunt. Her body seems to defy physics in accommodating him, making space where none had been before. She's never felt so full in her life.
“See? Your body, it gives to me easily. A good sign for a strong harvest,” he tells her, which is some weird bedroom talk, but it’s not the worst compliment she’s ever heard.
“You better be talking about farming,” she warns, though it’s hard to talk when you feel that good. “This is a fetus-free zone.I will be harvesting nothing.”
“Of course,” Thor says easily, clutching her hips. “But a hearty coupling is a good omen for the coming season. Let us bless our lands both, Lady Darcy.”
“Bless away,” Darcy gasps, spreading her legs wider. Thors hips slam into her, and all puns aside, Darcy sees stars .