Drabbletag - Dancing
Title: Floorshow
Prompt: Drabbletag 5 - Dancing
Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Pairing: Darcy/Sif
Rating: R
Word count: 250
The music is loud enough to be a throbbing pulse that vibrates through Darcy’s whole body. She watches the press of people, writhing bodies and grasping hands, sweat and alcohol and perfume mixing together into something heady and thrilling.
Darcy hasn’t been dancing in way too long.
Of course, her idea of dancing is apparently different to Sif’s. They don’t have nightclubs in Asgard, she can guess. But Sif’s pretty much game for anything, Darcy’s discovered, and she looks out over the dance floor with a considering look.
They have to lean in close to hear each other, and Sif’s breath tickles Darcy’s ear. “You call it dancing, but it more closely resembles an orgy,” she murmurs, and Darcy shivers for the way Sif smiles, lewd and promising, as she takes Darcy’s hand and leads her into the throng.
She settles her hands on Sif’s waist, and Sif laughs and crushes her close, and Darcy already knows bringing her was an awesome idea. One hand slides into the back pocket of Darcy’s jeans, palming her ass, the other pressing up under her top to settle against the small of her back. Chests tight together, and Sif’s thigh pushes between Darcy’s legs, rocking up insistently.
Sif’s hips begin to move to the beat, slow despite the frantic music, grinding against her, and Darcy lets her eyes flutter closed. Getting lost in the heat, the scent of Sif’s skin, gasping for the friction between her thighs, everything around them simply melting away.
Prompt: Drabbletag 5 - Dancing
Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Pairing: Darcy/Sif
Rating: R
Word count: 250
The music is loud enough to be a throbbing pulse that vibrates through Darcy’s whole body. She watches the press of people, writhing bodies and grasping hands, sweat and alcohol and perfume mixing together into something heady and thrilling.
Darcy hasn’t been dancing in way too long.
Of course, her idea of dancing is apparently different to Sif’s. They don’t have nightclubs in Asgard, she can guess. But Sif’s pretty much game for anything, Darcy’s discovered, and she looks out over the dance floor with a considering look.
They have to lean in close to hear each other, and Sif’s breath tickles Darcy’s ear. “You call it dancing, but it more closely resembles an orgy,” she murmurs, and Darcy shivers for the way Sif smiles, lewd and promising, as she takes Darcy’s hand and leads her into the throng.
She settles her hands on Sif’s waist, and Sif laughs and crushes her close, and Darcy already knows bringing her was an awesome idea. One hand slides into the back pocket of Darcy’s jeans, palming her ass, the other pressing up under her top to settle against the small of her back. Chests tight together, and Sif’s thigh pushes between Darcy’s legs, rocking up insistently.
Sif’s hips begin to move to the beat, slow despite the frantic music, grinding against her, and Darcy lets her eyes flutter closed. Getting lost in the heat, the scent of Sif’s skin, gasping for the friction between her thighs, everything around them simply melting away.