Forgetting Him | NC-17
It started when Darcy arrived home after the crazy days with Jane and Dr. Selvig. Thor, his friends, the wormhole in the sky, that whole thing. When she went to bed that night, she had the weirdest dreams. Dreams of another planet, with a city filled with people from other worlds. It was a confusing blur and she forgot most of it the next morning when she woke up. Darcy passed it off as an after-effect from all the stuff with Thor. But then she kept dreaming about it. New faces would pop up, and Darcy seemed to know them. Thor was there, and a man he called brother. Darcy grew closer to Thor and his brother and they cared greatly for her. They considered her family. There was another face, one similar to Thor's brother, with a mop of curly blond hair instead of sleek black. That face.... That face made her heartbeat pick up. Even after she woke up from a night filled with those dreams, trying to summon the blond man's face, even the smallest glimpse made her blush like a schoolgirl. And she wishes she could give the face a name. Not that it mattered. He wasn't real. Just some crazy mashup of her subconscious doing god only knows what. The dreams would end eventually.
But they didn't end. Not by a long shot. Some nights, the dreams would be so vivid, so real, Darcy would have bet money they actually happened. But that was impossible. How could she possibly have been taken to another world and lived out a new life without her knowing? She couldn't. On nights where she couldn't remember her dreams, she felt...sad, almost. The dreams were weird and she had no real control over them, but there was something about experiencing them. Something felt...right. Darcy found herself spending more time at home, visiting with her mom, playing with Sir Fluffy. One visit, she'd accidentally called Sir Fluffy 'Vader' and her mother had looked at her funny. 'Don't you try and rename my dog', her mother had warned. Darcy genuinely had no idea where it'd come from. But it was a funny name for a Yorkie. Such a tiny dog with the name of the most feared sith lord in Star Wars. Darcy also found herself tracking down the old Masters of the Universe episodes. She bought the complete seasons that were out and available on dvd. On spring break, she marathoned through them...then watched The Sound of Music for some odd reason.
Finished with school for the semester, Darcy decided to take a trip. She wasn't a stranger to backpacking around Europe and decided-- this time-- that she was gonna go to places she hadn't been before. She'd hit the usuals-- The UK, France, Germany, Italy, etc. But this time, she wanted to try a different sort of trip. Just focus on one country. She'd flipped a coin between Spain and Sweden and Sweden won out. Her parents worried for her, like they always did, but she promised them nothing bad would happen. Darcy had spent the first week in Northern Sweden, just in awe of everything. Truly, truly beautiful country. Many of the people were kind and patient with her, when she asked for directions. She took so many pictures, she knew she was going to run out of room on all three memory sticks she brought with her. The second week was just as amazing. She spent an entire day at a lake the map named Vättern. She'd seen on the map there was a little island village toward the bottom of the lake, but she had no way of getting there. She went further south, having overheard a pair of fisherman mention a city, Ystad. It was ridiculous how she reacted to the mention of the city. She'd been sitting at a cafe, about six feet away from the fishermen. At the mention of the city, her spine straightened and a shiver went through her. She asked the men in terrible, ill-pronounced Swedish, how to get to Ystad. They gave directions as best they could and Darcy took a bus down.
As much as the rest of the trip had been smooth sailing, Darcy's arrival in Ystad was something completely different. The first day, she lost her Swedish to English dictionary. The second, she was robbed. Her purse had nearly all of her money-- save a small coinpurse with credit cards and cash she had in the bottom of her backpack-- and her passport. An old woman witnessed the robbery, and called the police for Darcy. Darcy did her best to thank the woman, who sat with her until the police arrived. The officer on duty didn't speak a word of English, so Darcy had to watch the old woman jabber rapidly in Swedish, explaining to him what had happened. "Passport. He took my passport," Darcy tried to explain. She didn't raise her voice when speaking, knowing that saying it louder or slower wasn't going to help. The officer gestured for her to get into his squad car and she did as she was told. As he drove back to the station, he had the radio playing, but not so loud as he couldn't hear the police radio.
At the station, Darcy was led over to a small waiting area, for an English speaking officer to come help with the language barrier. It took some time, so Darcy was left to twiddle her thumbs. This was one of the last things she'd thought she'd do. And she was thankful she'd been keeping her iPod in her jacket pocket instead of her purse. She slipped the earbuds out, sliding one into her ear and thumbed through her albums. She hit the E's and chose Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeroes. Tucking the iPod back into her pocket, she sighed, studying the faces before her. None of them paid even the littlest bit of attention to her, all going about their business. A crash sounded and Darcy looked in the direction it came from. Apparently, someone wasn't watching where they were going and had bumped into a coworker and dropped a couple dozen files worth of paperwork. One man was apologizing profusely as he attempted to gather his folders, blond hair flashing a little under the fluorescent lights. The next breath Darcy tried to take caught in her throat. The man apologizing glanced up in her direction, his green-blue eyes meeting hers.
And he dropped the files again.
Darcy's cheeks flushed bright red and she looked away, but just for a moment. She discreetly-- as discreetly as she possibly could-- watched him pick the files up again. He must have looked at her six times in the first thirty seconds alone. Once his files were in their folders and back in his arms, he stood and disappeared from sight. Darcy watched him go, brow furrowing with disappointment. Finally, after what seemed like ages, an English-speaking officer came over and took her statement. Unfortunately, even in Sweden, robberies aren't always solved and it's possible she'd be in Sweden for a little longer than she'd intended, while she was processed for a new passport. Darcy nodded, then was asked to wait a little while longer, so the police could arrange a place for her to stay. As she waited, the blond man from earlier must have walked past her four times. Each time he went passed, he looked more and more bothered. It was entirely possible he spoke a little English, so Darcy piped up on his fifth drive-by, "I'm sorry, am I bothering you?"
That stopped him. If life was a cartoon, he would have made a screeching noise when his feet stopped moving. He shoved his hands into his pockets, looking down at her intently, as if studying her. "No habla English?" She tried again. He gave her a look like she was crazy and her world went funny for a moment. That face. She knew that face. She knew it. And from the look on said face, he appeared to know her, too. He looked as if he wanted to say something, but it was like the word was drifting further out of reach. The English-speaking officer came up, looking from Darcy to the blond man and the two had a quick little conversation in Swedish. She looked from one man to the other, eyebrows arching. The officer seemed to agree to...something and handed him a small package. "Miss Lewis, the Detective here is going to drive you to the hotel you'll be staying at the next few days, if you'll just follow him..."
"Uh, okay," Darcy nodded, climbing to her feet and slinging her duffle over her shoulder. "After you, I guess." Darcy gestured for the detective to lead the way and the blond nodded and started off.
It took a little effort for Darcy to keep step with the detective, he had some long legs on him. They reached his car and he actually opened the door for her. "Tak," Darcy gave him a small smile as she thanked him. One of the few phrases/words she memorized from saying them so many times. He nodded again, moving around to the driver's side and climbed in. Turning the engine over, his CD player turned on, halfway through the very same song Darcy had been listening to in the station. "Home," Darcy said, pointing to the radio. He looked at her when she spoke then glanced to the radio. His gaze returned to her, just...staying there for the longest moment before nodding again, saying nothing else.
"Okay...." Darcy muttered, leaning against her seat.
The drive was short and the detective helped check her into the hotel. It wasn't the Ritz, but it wasn't a hostel, and Darcy was thankful for that. He accompanied her up to her room, hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket. Darcy unlocked the door and pushed it open. She looked back to the detective, giving him a lopsided smile. "Um, tak, again, I guess." Darcy moved to enter the room and shut the door, bothered by the blond man with the hauntingly familiar features and piercing green-blue eyes.
"Orko."
Darcy stopped dead, like someone hit pause on a dvd remote to run to the bathroom real quick. That voice. That name. It hit her hard and fast, somewhere deep and she turned to look at him, blue eyes wide as saucers. "Who are you?" She asked slowly, unable to breathe. That was the $25,000 question. He shook his head, he didn't understand. Darcy sighed heavily, scratching at her forehead in frustration. And then she got an idea.
Darcy motioned for him to follow her into the hotel room as she moved to the bed, tugging her netbook out of the case in the middle of her duffle. She sat at the desk in the room, taking a few minutes to hook up to the internet and get to google translate. English to Swedish.
Who are you?
Darcy turned the netbook towards him, and translated the question to Swedish.
"Magnus Martinsson," the detective replied, then pointed to her.
"Darcy Lewis," she responded before turning back to the netbook.
Why did you call me 'Orko'?
Switch it to Swedish and of course there's no translation for 'Orko' but whatever. He read the question and shook his head, shrugging. Darcy pointed for him to use the netbook and he came closer, thin, nimble fingers tapping across the keyboard. She switched it back to English.
I do not know. It seemed right.
Darcy sighed, leaning back in her seat. She took off her glasses, dropping them to the table before scrubbing her face with her hands. It was frustrating, seeing this man and recognizing him but not knowing him. He turned to lean against the desk, as frustrated as she was. The room was dead quiet, save for an annoyed sigh or two. Darcy moved her hand to pull her glasses back on his his hand covered hers. Her arm twitched like she'd been shocked. "Mags."
It was his turn to stare at her this time. "Vad?"
Darcy panted softly, shaking her head. She wasn't sure where that came from. His grip on her wrist tightened and he pulled her to her feet slowly. Darcy moved slowly as he controlled her movements. He stepped to a more open spot on the floor and pulled her close to his body. Darcy felt disjointed, like she wasn't the one moving her feet. His other hand moved behind her back, and hers moved to his upper arm. Their finger tangled and settled between them, resting against his chest. He began to move them in a small, slow circle. Dancing, but there was no music. After a few minutes of slow dancing with no music, Magnus began to sing softly:
"My heart's a stereo
It beats for you, so listen close
Hear my thoughts in every no-o-o-te
Make me your radio
Turn me up when you feel low"
Darcy lifted her chin to look up at him as he sang. She knew that song. She loved that song. She played it almost non-stop in the weeks after the dreams started. Her chest squeezed painfully and she stared up at him. "Maggy."
He looked back down at her, green-blue eyes filled with a myriad of emotions. "Orko."
And then it came flooding back. The planet with the three moons. Making friends. Living there for years. Years. Falling in love...with the man right in front of her. "Mag--" Darcy began but his mouth crushed against hers. She whimpered as more memories crashed into her. Her arms circled around his neck, not wanting him to break the kiss anytime soon. How could she possibly have forgotten Magnus? The man she mistook for Thor's brother. The man she bought a stuffed animal for. The man that learned to juggle for her.
She loved him. And he loved her. Suddenly, kissing wasn't enough. It wasn't nearly enough. Darcy's hands released his neck and moved to the front of his jacket, pushing it back over his shoulders. "Off," Darcy muttered, not caring if he understood. He'd understand soon enough. He broke the kiss long enough to whisk his shirt up and off, dropping it to the floor. Darcy took that moment to yank her jeans down and tug off her shoes. It was a little difficult, pulling her shoes off while standing up and she ended up plopping down on the bed. He pulled her pants off her legs, letting them drop to the floor. Darcy reached for his fly as he reached for the bottom hem of her shirt. His belt was pulled free as he got her shirt up over her breasts. He huffed and gave her a look. Darcy giggled, lifting her arms. Her shirt and overshirt were whisked away.
Magnus took a moment, reacquainting his eyes with her boobs, which Darcy noted with a smirk. While he was distracted, she grabbed him by the hips, turning him so he landed on the bed, legs hanging off from the knees down. Darcy undid his fly, gesturing for him to lift his ass as she pulled his jeans lower. She removed his boots and his socks, leaving him in his distended boxers and her in her bra and panties. They look a moment, just...looking at each other. "God, I've missed you," Darcy muttered, moving to straddle his hips. As she settled against his groin, Magnus groaned at the pressure and bucked up against her, letting her feel just how hard he was. Darcy rocked back down against him, eliciting another groan from the man. She chuckled hotly and he gave her a heated look. He didn't need to speak English to understand she was teasing him. He sat up a little, bracing himself with one hand and circled the other behind her back. His hand slid down over her back side, to stroke against her sex through her panties from behind. Darcy instantly melted against him. "Goddamn, your fingers," Darcy moaned, dropping her forehead to his shoulder. It was Magnus' turn to chuckle this time, and he did, not stopping his fingers. Darcy rocked back against him, fingers lifting to tangle into his hair. He ducked his head, grazing his teeth against her shoulder. Then she felt the bra strap nearest his mouth starting to slip off her shoulder. Darcy lifted her head and caught Magnus with the strap pinned between his teeth. He gave her a boyish smile and Darcy laughed, lifting his head, pulling her bra free from his mouth and claimed it with her own.
As she kissed him, she reached back with one hand, unhooking her bra and letting the other strap slide off her shoulder. A few quick movements and her bra was dangling precariously from the corner of her netbook. Magnus broke the kiss, leaning back to look at her. A low growl rumbled its way up his chest and he lifted his gaze to hers. He smirked as he tilted his head forward, and stroked his tongue against her skin, following the same trail with grazing nips. All the while, Darcy rocked against Magnus through their undergarments. Darcy gasped when-- at the same time-- Magnus slid a finger inside her and bit down, just beside her nipple. "Mags!" Darcy gasped, clenching around that slender, talented digit. It was safe to say that Magnus was extremely talented with his hands. Darcy pushed back against his hand, short nails digging into his shoulders. Magnus didn't speed up, didn't slow down. He kept that slow rocking against his erection in pace with his finger thrusting into her. The wet, slick sounds that came from his actions were enough to make anyone blush.
"Fuck, I need you," Darcy whispered, unable to take it anymore. "Mags. Mags. Stop."
His finger stilled as he looked up at her. Removing it slowly, he watched the pleasure slide across her face. "You're an asshole," Darcy muttered, cheeks darkening as she watched him lick his finger clean, and made a sound akin to a purr.
She lifted off his lap, pulling his dick free of his shorts, dampened in a spot with precum. He was flushed and hard, more than ready. They both were. Darcy wiggled out of her panties-- Magnus watching her...wiggle-- tossing them to the floor. She moved to straddle his waist again, moaning at how hot he felt against her. "Vänligen, Darcy," Magnus groaned, his hands gripping her hips. Darcy rose up on her knees, shifting forward and taking hold of his cock, guiding him back. Feeling the head press against her entrance, Darcy slid down slowly, unknowingly holding her breath as she did. Magnus' jaw clenched as she sunk lower, taking him deeper. She didn't stop until he was completely seated inside her. Only when she was sitting on his lap again, did she remember to breathe. The break was accompanied by a heavy sigh. Darcy rocked on his lap slowly at first, getting reacclimated to his size.
It didn't take long before Darcy was bouncing on his lap, Magnus' hands covering her breasts. She stopped every few bounces to grind down against him, making him swear in Swedish. One of his hands lifted from her breast to her hair, and he pulled her down to lay flush against him, his lips consuming hers. Darcy whimpered against his mouth, feeling that familiar tightness growing low in her belly. She broke the kiss long enough to moan, "Shit, Mags, 'm gonna come...." Magnus got the gist of what she said and it made him buck his hips harder up into hers, his thumb moved lower, sliding between their bodies to seek out and circle her clit. A sharp bark escaped Darcy and she was falling-- no, she was spinning. Magnus rolled the pair of them over and was working his hips deep and hard, not stopping with his thumb on her clitoris. Darcy's spine arched, pushing her chest up against his as she came, sobbing his name. She spasmed around him, clit throbbing beneath his thumb. Magnus managed to last a few more strokes before he pulled himself free, blowing his load on the thatch of hair between Darcy's legs, groaning like he'd been shot.
In the aftermath, Darcy lay on her back, Magnus, half-laying on her, half on the mattress proper. "Ni häxa. Du förstöra mig," he muttered against her skin. Darcy couldn't stop the small giggle that bubbled up.
"I'm sorry, baby. I don't understand a word you say."
Magnus frowned in confusion, shaking his head. Which just made Darcy giggle more. This was going to be a challenge.
Tak - thank you
Vad - what
Vänligen - please
Ni häxa. Du förstöra mig - You witch. You wreck me.