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Darcy has been in worse bars.
She remembers the dive in Jersey that time back in 2009. She was still using her fake ID then, and she was sleeping exclusively with dudes. Dark, dark times.
Intergalactic bars are as rampant as the ones on Earth. Alcohol content of her drinks varies from place to place, and Thor has never led Darcy to a place with anything too potent for her mortal, very human faculties. She nurses a pink cocktail called a Tickler and it tastes of coconut rum and lychees, but it could be made from anything. She just hopes that the curtain behind the bar isn’t hiding a giant slug that they use for the “secret recipe”.
Darcy hates that her mind goes to alien slug slime that fast but she can’t help it. She swirls her straw, peering into the glass. The bar she sits at is made of some kind of glowing stone, and the music is some kind of lo-fi synth track playing backwards and forwards.
“Hey.”
She glances up, seeing a blonde woman wearing a red, blue and gold suit standing beside her, leaning one elbow on the bar. Darcy remains perched on her stool, assessing her.
“Hi,” she replies. She’s not sure if the woman is speaking English or if she has some kind of universal translator. She looks human, but she could be anyone or anything.
Darcy remembers going to an amusement park modeled after Saturn where tourists flocked to hallucinate, kind of like a space Burning Man, except that the park rangers resembled whatever Darcy’s mind desired. Darcy’s version of the Saturn amusement park was overrun by Marilyn Monroes and Rita Hayworths.
“I think your one is with my one,” the blonde says, and Darcy’s eyebrows lift.
“Oh?”
“You’re with Thor?” she asks, and Darcy nods.
Darcy wasn’t exactly ditched, but she didn’t feel like being dragged into something with Valkyrie. The warrior she met months ago was still somewhat cold towards her, and Darcy wasn’t one to push herself onto other women. Men, sure. Women – she empathized with unwanted attention. Thor offered Darcy to go with them to a room upstairs and Darcy declined, which was why she’s sitting at the bar now, drinking her mystery cocktail.
“Yeah, I’m Darcy,” she says, holding out her hand.
“Carol.”
Darcy blinks. A very human name.
“Are you from… Midgard?” Darcy asks, glancing down at her outfit again. “Or Terra or whatever you call it?”
“You mean Earth?” Carol says, and they laugh together.
She’s adorable, and Darcy smiles even wider at the discovery.
“Uh, yeah. Earth, you’re from there?” Darcy asks.
Carol hesitates, leaning her back against the bar, her ankles crossing. Darcy is reminded of a cowboy in a saloon. Carol’s eyes watch people come and go in the bar, seeming to consider how to answer Darcy’s pretty direct question.
“Is it a complicated answer?” Darcy says, and Carol’s eyes swing back to hers again.
“I haven’t been on Earth for over twenty years,” Carol says.
“You wanna elaborate on that, if I buy you a drink?” Darcy offers, and Carol’s eyes travel down to Darcy’s own drink, narrowing one eye.
“Okay. But don’t get me one of those.”
“Why, what’s wrong with it?” Darcy asks, dreading the answer.
“Nothing, I just prefer beer,” Carol says with a chuckle.
Darcy gestures to the bartender, a cyborg with a silver bow tie and matching cuff links. It swivels around, pouring Carol a beer in a tall glass and pushing it smoothly toward her. Carol picks it up, tapping her glass against Darcy’s.
“Cheers.”
Darcy smiles, sipping from her draw as Carol takes a couple gulps. She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand and Darcy leans on her elbow, resting her chin in her hand as she watches the blonde.
“You’re here with Valkyrie?” Darcy asks, and Carol nods. “How long have you been together?”
Carol ducks her head, smiling. She almost seems bashful about it and she looks back at Darcy, fiddling with her glass as she tries to find her words.
“A few months here and there. I’m usually pretty busy.”
“Fighting crime?” Darcy says, and Carol laughs.
“Something like that.”
They fall silent and Darcy sips her drink some more, thinking about what she and Thor promised each other long ago – they weren’t bound to one another in the ways that people on Earth expected Darcy to be. She likes having an Asgardian girlfriend, but she likes having other people in her orbit, too. Not that she’s slept with anyone else for months. She got into the habit of saving up those opportunities for Thor.
When Valkyrie showed up earlier, Thor asked Darcy if she was okay with her sleeping with someone else. Darcy was – she knows it’s silly to expect otherwise, because she’s had so many chances to forbid it and she’s never wanted to.
“You and Thor got a room here?” Carol asks, and Darcy loses her train of thought, her eyes meeting Carol’s.
“Yeah. I don’t wanna – intrude while they’re there, though,” Darcy murmurs.
“We can hang out if you want,” Carol says.
Darcy’s face flushes, her lips parting at the thought of the two of them alone in a little hotel room like Valkyrie and Thor are now. She hates that she’s making such an assumption.
“Sure.”
She feels shy for the first time. They keep talking about the planet they’re on – Stellar Nine – and Carol laughs at a particularly ridiculous anecdote of Darcy’s, the one that involves her mistaking a Nerf gun for a blaster and her ass nearly getting handed to her.
“I’m glad you made it in one piece,” Carol says.
They smile at each other and Darcy pushes her drink away, licking her lips. She hasn’t done this kind of thing in so long, she’s rusty. She glances at Carol again, checking to see she’s reading this the right way.
“You got a room?” she asks, and Carol nods.
“Yeah.”
They leave together, and when they take the elevator up to Carol’s floor, Darcy lets her see her eyes run up and down her.
“I like your suit. Reminds me of Power Rangers,” Darcy murmurs, and Carol smiles.
“You have a cute cardigan.”
Darcy still dresses like a librarian, but it’s not altogether a bad idea, since she’s often overlooked for not wearing armour like Thor does. She’s less likely to stir up the locals if she looks like some bespectacled organism from C-137. She has a tiny holster in her boot but no-one needs to know that.
Carol lets them into her room and Darcy glances around. It smells female – scented products in the bathroom, a musk that reminds her of those awful all-women Soul Cycle classes she went to with Jane a couple years back.
Carol walks to the refrigerator and presses a couple buttons before opening it, and Darcy sees two beer bottles sitting there. It’s one of those fancy order-as-you-need-it type of dispenser pods that Darcy thinks Earth should really hurry up and invent.
“When did you leave Earth?” Darcy murmurs, as they sit together on the couch.
The screen on the wall opposite them is mostly ignored. There’s what Darcy thinks is a televised sport happening with globs of viscera mashing together, scores displaying in runes she can’t read beneath. It’s either sports or a shopping channel or it’s porn.
“1995,” Carol says, and Darcy chokes on her mouthful of beer.
She coughs, wiping her mouth with her hand, her eyes wider.
“I was only five then. How old are you?” she blurts, and Carol throws back her head to laugh.
“Does it really matter?”
“No – just – wow. You look great,” Darcy says. Her cheeks blush and she feels herself floundering, but Carol only seems amused.
“Thanks.”
Darcy remembers Thor and how she’s over a thousand years old and she cringes.
“Sorry, I sound so dumb sometimes,” she murmurs.
She feels Carol reach for her, putting her hand on top of hers and Darcy blinks at her, seeing her eyes are softer, their colour a rich brown.
“It’s fine.”
Darcy swallows, feeling her stomach flip. Carol is warm against her, her thumb running along the delicate bones of Darcy’s hand.
“I don’t usually do this,” Darcy blurts, and Carol’s eyebrows hike.
“Do what?”
Darcy doesn’t know if she’s being deliberately obtuse, so she delays answering, wondering what to say.
“I… I mean being close to someone fast,” she says, her voice lower. “And I know that our girlfriends are in this building somewhere rolling around but – I don’t want you… to think that –”
“You don’t want to assume they’d be fine with us sleeping together,” Carol says matter-of-factly, and Darcy lets out a breath.
“Yes.”
Carol doesn’t withdraw her hand, instead she scoots closer to Darcy, her other hand moving to touch Darcy’s arm, running up the sleeve to her shoulder.
“That’s fair. Val and I never had any rules against seeing other people.”
Darcy’s somewhat relieved at that, except she’s distracted by Carol’s easy touch and the way her eyes take her in. She swallows, and Carol’s eyes rest on Darcy’s mouth.
“And I didn’t want to assume that we’d do some kind of –”
“Swap?” Carol finishes, and Darcy ducks her head, a nervous giggle escaping.
“Yeah.”
Darcy dares to look up, remembering the first time she was with Thor, soon after she became female. She had the same nervousness, the same anticipation twisting her stomach in a near-delightful way. Back then she didn’t know if she was enough for Thor.
Sitting with Carol now, she wonders if she’s reading too much into this, even though Carol’s looking at her intently, her hands still on her.
“Am I even your type?” Darcy murmurs, and Carol looks surprised.
She begins to laugh and Darcy wants to cringe again. She’s really not great at reading other women. She knows she struggles to not see herself within the context of the male gaze – she knows what men find attractive about her, women not so much.
Carol answers her with her own question:
“Am I yours?”
Darcy doesn’t have to consider this.
“Yes.”
Smart, beautiful, strong. She wonders what Carol has under her suit and whether the way she looks naked would answer more questions. Darcy’s only ever been with one woman.
Darcy shifts toward Carol, her hand reaching up to touch her hair, to run her fingers down the side of her face. Carol smiles, fingers massaging her arms.
By the way Carol looks at her, it’s as if she knows something Darcy doesn’t. It doesn’t frustrate her, it only makes her want to be around her more, to understand her. She’s like Thor that way – she must have endless stories to share, so many adventures in her memories.
“You okay?” she murmurs, and her thumb comes up to rub Darcy’s lower lip.
She nods, holding her breath. Carol shifts closer, their noses brushing. Darcy waits, neither of them closing their eyes or giving in.
“I’m nervous,” she admits.
Carol smiles. “Don’t be. I’ll walk you through it.”
Darcy laughs and Carol kisses her, a lingering kind of kiss that makes Darcy melt instantly.
Darcy’s hands move to touch her hair and Carol wraps an arm around her waist to pull her flush against her. Carol is taller than her but she doesn’t tower over Darcy like Thor does, so Darcy already feels a slight logistical change as they keep kissing.
Darcy licks the seam of her lips and Carol opens her mouth to her, a soft moan escaping. Darcy gasps as they tangle together, hands roving each other as Darcy all but devours Carol. She only moves back to breathe when Carol breaks off the kiss and they stare at one another, Darcy’s nose rubbing hers.
Carol tastes of beer and something sweet Darcy can’t name, and she thinks she might never get enough of it no matter how much she kisses her. She feels so soft yet unyielding, the same solid quality to her body that Thor has, and Darcy realizes that it must be muscle and soft curves intermingling. Carol kisses her again, her hands cupping her face as she all but sucks the breath from her body, as if she’s trying to outdo her.
Darcy wants to touch her everywhere, and she tries to think of where to start, her hands gliding up Carol’s sides.
“Can you – take this off?” she whispers, and Carol kisses her jaw, nodding.
Her suit comes off with a secret zipper and a button she presses on the little gadget on her wrist. Darcy shoves off her shoes and cardigan, revealing her tank top and leggings. She looks at Carol, seeing her sitting with her sports bra and matching black shorts and she swallows.
Her body is sculpted, but sort of compact. She’s beautiful, with flawless skin, ridges of muscles and softer parts like her inner thighs and small breasts.
Carol kisses her again, pulling her down so she’s lying on top of her, her hands going under the back of Darcy’s shirt. Her teeth graze Darcy’s neck and she hisses, biting her lip.
Their legs curl together and Darcy wants her – she wants Carol so much she starts to whimper, rocking her hips against hers as they kiss again and again.
At one point, Carol moves back and cuddles Darcy, panting with her. Darcy keeps her eyes glued to hers, stroking her cheek.
Something passes between them and Carol nods, moving back as Darcy shimmies out of her leggings. They begin to laugh as they tug off the rest of their clothes hastily, joining again in a hug, their naked chests pressing together.
Carol nips at her chin and Darcy chuckles, feeling bolder. She reaches between them with her hand to run her fingers along Carol’s slit and her eyes go wider.
She feels silky and wet, warm to the touch and Darcy watches her eyes widen as she explores her. Carol’s breath turns shaky once Darcy presses against her clit, their mouths pressing together again in a clumsier kiss. Carol kneads Darcy’s breast, rolling the nipple between her fingers as she cants her hips to meet her hand.
They rock together, until Carol sounds close, and she’s wet on Darcy’s hand, her breath hot against her lips.
“Darcy –”
She tenses, rocking through her climax as her eyes flutter shut and she shudders, going still as Darcy kisses her nose, her cheek, her mouth.
Carol smiles down at her, kissing her thoroughly, trailing down her front to meet one of her nipples to suck into her mouth. Darcy hisses, whimpering again as Carol moves further down to her stomach.
She sucks in a breath as Carol glides her tongue along her cunt.
“Holy shit.”
Carol chuckles against her skin, and begins to lap at her, her fingers spreading her open, dipping inside. She curls two fingers just so and Darcy dissolves into a long moan, the thrill rushing through her. She doesn’t want it to stop, but she’s close already, like a steady hum in her bones.
Her hand reaches to touch Carol, her fingers threading through her blonde tresses as Carol works Darcy over with sucks and licks.
Darcy’s arousal is heavy in her gut, pulling tighter and tighter. She begins to pant, writhing under Carol’s touch, whimpering and desperate.
She moans, her hips lifting off the couch as she comes long and hard. The world shrinks to the delicious throb that reaches the edges of her, her toes tingling as her thighs shake on either side of Carol’s head.
She falls back down, sweat on her face as Carol moves back, wiping her mouth with her hands. She crawls up, Darcy’s arms wrapping around her.
They lie together like that for some time, Darcy’s fingers playing with Carol’s hair, bodies pressed together, contented. Darcy relaxes, closing her eyes as Carol’s nose brushes her neck.
-
Several hours later, there’s a knock on the door and Carol sits up, Darcy moving out from under her to grab her underwear. They redress hastily, the knocking starting up again.
“Hold on!” Carol calls, and Darcy covers her snort with her hand over her mouth.
Carol’s hair sticks up and Darcy moves to fix it, patting it as Carol smiles at her. She pulls her into a kiss, a little sloppy but Darcy loves it.
They hear the door open and they freeze, seeing Thor and Valkyrie walk in.
Thor smirks, crossing her arms as Valkyrie places her hands on her hips.
“Hi,” Carol says, her hand up. “You must be Thor.”
Valkyrie and Thor share a glance.
Valkyrie flashes a smirk, sighing.
“I knew this would happen.”