“You promised me.”
Darcy just rolls her eyes as Jane glares at her. They’re in matching robes, and Darcy sticks out as a mortal more than her boss because she’s still wearing her glasses.
Darcy frowns back at her, and then relents.
“Christ,” Jane hisses. “Sometimes you make me think you’re on the same plane as Loki.”
“I’m a jackass, not a sociopath,” Darcy retorts.
“Rude,” comes a voice, and Loki appears in the hallway with one eyebrow quirked. He gives Darcy a pointed look. “How are your new clothes treating you, Lady Darcy?”
“Fuck off,” she retorts, smiling at him. “I came for Jane and Thor, not to appeal to Asgardian eyes.”
“Lady Sif wears her armor wherever she pleases,” Loki says, smirking at her. “But I suppose you’re quite different from –”
“Shut up,” she says, pushing past him to walk further down the hall with Jane. “I’d rather be with her than you any day of the week.”
Darcy came to Asgard because Jane said she had to visit to truly understand the experiences she described. Darcy knew she could be a supportive friend, but even she had her limits. She wanted alcohol, preferably in a goblet as large as her head. Every time they ran into citizens, they’d curtsey or bow and Darcy would watch awkwardly as Jane dipped into a practised curtsey.
“Gross,” Darcy says, once they were alone once more.
“They’re just being respectful,” Jane says. “You could try it.”
“I feel like I’m in Rivendell,” she mutters.
“You can’t reference Lord of the Rings every time something scares you,” Jane says.
She waves at a random woman Darcy blinks at.
“Fine,” she says. “I feel like I’m in King’s Landing.”
Jane just shoots her a look, and they lapse into silence.
It’s warm. Thor never told her how warm Asgard was. It’s like a humid, tropical heat and Darcy isn’t sure her hair can quite stand it. Sooner or later she’ll be nothing but frizz and constantly sweating.
She fans her face with one hand and Jane shoots her another glare.
“You promised,” she says again. “You said you’d behave.”
“You make me sound like an incontinent –”
“Good evening, Lady Jane,” comes a voice, and Darcy looks towards the sound.
The voice is accented English to her ears, but she knows this is only her perception of whatever the Asgardian is saying. The woman who speaks to them is a vision of golden hair and a dazzling smile.
Darcy knows without asking that the woman must be the Queen, Frigga. Thor’s mother. All of his beauty comes from her.
She reminds Darcy of a warrior queen. She wears her armor on top of her robes. Darcy feels herself blush, because Frigga is now looking straight at her, assessing.
“Your Majesty, this is my friend, Darcy Lewis,” Jane says, and Darcy bites her lip, stepping forward.
Should she bow or curtsey? They hadn’t gone over that earlier.
“I am – honoured – t-to be here, on this – this planet,” Darcy says, and then she awkwardly dips her head at Frigga, wincing at her stammering.
Frigga’s eyes dips ever so slightly to Darcy’s ample cleavage and then she smiles at her again, dazzling and beautiful. She is like the sun, and Darcy feels herself grow more flustered.
Darcy is not straight. People are sometimes surprised about this and she doesn’t understand why – there is so much beauty in the world, or in this case, the universe – and she appreciates every gender, every type of person she meets.
Technically, the Queen is a witch and distinctly not human, but it doesn’t stop Darcy’s eyes from wandering over her, looking at the skin she can see.
“I am delighted to meet you,” Frigga replies, and Darcy finds herself smiling back.
She feels more exposed, and yet somehow she likes it. Usually she is the one flirting with people. She never realized until just then that she was always wanting some else to instigate, someone else to make her pause.
Frigga manages that instantaneously.
“I’m so…” Darcy dissolves into a laugh, and Jane’s eyes widen slightly. “Happy to be here.”
That was a lie literally minutes ago. Suddenly she wants to just keep talking, keep being around this ethereal woman. What the fuck.
“Darcy,” Jane nudges her. “We should leave the Queen and find some seats in the Great Hall.”
“Sit with me,” Frigga says, and Darcy feels herself flush again. “My husband will be eager to meet you as well.”
Darcy’s heart sinks instantly. How had she forgotten Frigga was married? She nods, trying to not let her disappointment show. She clearly got the wrong idea. The Queen is just being friendly.
They file into the Hall and Jane grabs Darcy’s elbow, a warning hiss at her ear:
“Would you stop? You’ve gone all goo-goo eyed.”
“I can’t help it –”
“Can’t help what?” Loki asks, as he appears in front of them, blocking their way.
Darcy starts, her hand on her chest.
“Don’t do that,” she says.
“What can’t you help, Darcy?” Loki drawls, winking.
He knows. Darcy doesn’t know how, but he does. He’s probably used to people going weak at the knees around his mother.
They together, Darcy between Loki and Jane as Frigga sits opposite, murmuring to one of her ladies-in-waiting.
“She taught me everything I know,” Loki murmurs in Darcy’s ear. The hairs stand up on the back of her neck.
“My mother,” he replies, unperturbed by the glare she sends back at him.
Thor glides in, sitting beside Frigga and smiling at everyone.
Once Odin arrives, everyone stands, and Darcy is still awkward in her dress. Loki and Jane both tug at her and she makes a grumbling sound.
She glances briefly at Frigga whose eyes dart her way, and Darcy feels her stomach flip.
Goddamn it. Of course Darcy gets a crush on the least available Asgardian of the bunch. She glances away, toward Odin as she clenches her jaw.
“Welcome to the Ladies Jane Foster and Darcy Lewis of Midgard. We are so pleased to have you as guests this evening.”
Darcy does her best to smile, nodding at Odin.
She knows all about him. She read books, heard Thor’s stories. She is ashamed to say she knows less about Frigga.
While they eat, Darcy tries to have some kind of decorum, until Thor grabs a whole ham for himself. The mead is flowing, and the Great Hall is full of laughter and music. Darcy forgets her nerves, and even makes Loki genuinely laugh several times with her stupid jokes and stories.
Jane keeps making eyes across the table at Thor and makes an exit, and Darcy knows she doesn’t need to wait up for her friend in their shared chambers.
Darcy’s only slightly tipsy when the night is finally over, and Loki takes her by the elbow down the corridors to her room.
He even leaves her without a jibe. She considers it bizarre. She glances around their empty bedroom and thinks of Frigga and her smile before she can stop herself. Darcy’s a little jealous that Jane has someone here, someone to touch.
There’s a knock and Darcy jumps, blinking around.
She walks over to the door and opens it.
Frigga stands before her, hands together. She’s poised and downright queenly, and it turns Darcy on instantly.
“Hi,” she manages, still holding the door. “Is everything alright?”
“I thought I might come in, if you let me?” Frigga asks, her voice soft.
“I’m… I mean, sure,” Darcy mumbles, stepping back to let her through, and she swallows.
She’s so nervous she watches Frigga look around.
“Everything to your liking?” Frigga asks, and Darcy’s mouth falls open.
She could have sworn there was a subtext there but she doesn’t have the guts to call her out. She’s the Queen and she’s in her kingdom.
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
She looks at the floor. Frigga approaches her and Darcy stills, eyes snapping up to her.
“I haven’t met someone quite as captivating as you in a long time,” the Queen says, and she raises her hand to run her fingers through Darcy’s hair.
It can’t just be motherly. Or if it is, there’s a weird possessive dynamic to it that makes desire flare low in Darcy’s belly.
“Yes?” Frigga prompts, and her hand glides down to Darcy’s mouth, her thumb rubbing her bottom lip.
“I’m flattered,” Darcy whispers.
“Is this okay, me touching you?” Frigga murmurs, and she’s looking at Darcy’s mouth.
Darcy’s heart is hammering.
“Yes,” she whispers.
Darcy goes on tip-toe and kisses her before her nerves get the best of her. Frigga’s lips are soft and pliant, and in no time she’s pushing her tongue into her mouth.
She can’t quite wrap her mind around it all. She’s kissing this gorgeous woman, this Queen from another Realm entirely, and she’s not pushing her away, not telling her to stop.
Their hands clutch one another’s faces and Darcy is lost in the needy heat of it all. Frigga is giving as good as she gets, their kisses greedy and edging towards something filthy.
Darcy pulls back for air and their foreheads press together.
“You…” she can’t quite think of what to say. She’s so beautiful, just pure pleasure and Darcy is overwhelmed.
“I want you,” Frigga murmurs, and Darcy closes her eyes briefly.
“You’re married,” she says. She thinks she only says it to get it out of the way, because by the tone of their kisses, this is far from over.
“Asgardians have a different understanding of marriages to Midgardians,” Frigga says, giving a laugh.
“I think people on Earth are just hypocrites,” Darcy replies, and Frigga chuckles again.
“You are beautiful,” she murmurs, and Darcy blushes. “Yes, so responsive, too.”
Darcy kisses her again and they move toward one of the beds, and Darcy lands beneath the Queen. She grumbles about the dresses as Frigga laughs.
With just a thought, their clothes are gone and Darcy’s eyes bulge. She somehow forgot about the whole witch thing while they made out.
She glances up at Frigga, at her wide hips and full breasts. She traces her curves and then surges forward, latching herself on a nipple.
Frigga gasps and Darcy feels so free. One hand glides down between the Queen’s legs and she gasps again.
“Tell me what you like.”
“If I get to touch you, too,” Frigga says, smiling down at her. She looks giddy. Her hand travels down to between Darcy’s thighs.
Her clit has been throbbing this whole time and Darcy hisses once Frigga begins to rub.
They grind against each other for some time, until Darcy can feel she’s close, and she nods at Frigga encouragingly, feeling the Queen is wet against her own fingers.
She wants to taste her after this, to just see what she’s like, whether Asgardian is any different to what Darcy’s had before. Frigga huffs, and she tenses all over, rutting against Darcy’s hand as she comes.
Darcy clenches, following her a minute or so later. They’re both panting. They lay down, Darcy’s arms around Frigga, holding her to her chest.
Darcy brings her hand up to her mouth and sucks two fingers, making Frigga chuckle. She tastes nice. Like the ocean, and the earth.
Frigga tilts her head up to Darcy, biting her lip.
“I want to try something else, if you let me,” she says, and Darcy’s eyebrows hike.
She expects the Queen to ask her if she can fuck her with her fingers or something else and she readies herself to enthusiastically consent, but Frigga hesitates.
“What is it?”
“It’s… well, sometimes I like to encourage my lovers to love themselves.”
“What do y-?”
Before Darcy can ask the question, Frigga changes. Darcy is suddenly holding herself, her exact double against her naked body. She starts, but her twin touches her arm, soothing her.
“You want me to… fuck myself?” Darcy manages, her eyes on the ceiling.
It’s too weird. Even she has her limits. She thinks back on everything she has already done and wonders if this is truly the peak.
“You’ve never wondered what it’s like to make love to yourself?”
Darcy looks down, and Frigga’s hand is reaching down toward the apex of her thighs.
“Maybe, but only in like a ‘what do I look like when I’m doing certain things’ kind of way.”
She can’t think of how else to explain it. This is like a weird trip, like when she got really, really high on mushrooms once and thought her magnets were melting off her fridge and her carpet was talking to her.
“Darcy, trust me.”
Darcy knew she did trust the Queen, though she didn’t know her long. Frigga had that air about her, that she knew everything better than anyone ever did.
Darcy watched her twin’s hand begin to slip her fingers between the slick folds of her cunt. Darcy licks her lips reflexively and Frigga smiles.
Darcy sees her gapped tooth and kisses her own face. Her lips are soft.
Her twin hitches her breath and Darcy can hear herself. Frigga is imitating her voice and Darcy feels her face flush.
Frigga pushes two fingers inside her with ease and Darcy moans. She’s close already, and she wonders what it means that she’s this turned on.
She knows she’s sexy, and now there’s proof, not that she’ll ever tell a soul about this. She can’t imagine explaining it without sounding like the definition of a narcissist.
Also, she figures Jane would not appreciate hearing about having sex with Frigga in the first place.
“You gonna come?” her twin asks, and Darcy’s eyes open.
“Not before you,” she retorts.
Her hand goes between Frigga’s legs and she moans. Darcy can find a G-spot. It’s her hidden talent. She finds her own easily enough, though – because it is her body she’s fucking.
She throws in every trick, every little thing she knows drives herself wild.
Frigga moans, hips rolling.
Darcy is rough, precise. She can hear her fingers moving inside her twin. She never relents, ripping the orgasm from Frigga, her cunt clamping down on her as she thrusts them over and over.
“There you go,” she murmurs, and Frigga whimpers.
She wonders what it looks like, her fucking herself. She kisses Frigga once more, and rubs herself against her fingers, using her hand as best she can.
Her own orgasm makes her grunt, her thighs tensing to the near point of pain. She might ache tomorrow.
She settles back down on the bed with Frigga wrapped in her arms once more, back to her blonder, taller self.
The Queen leans up to brush her lips against Darcy’s sweaty neck.
Darcy can’t help herself and says:
“I’m good in bed, huh?”
Frigga can only laugh, bringing her into another smothering kiss.