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Title: Stupid Grins And Heavy Palms
Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Pairing: Sif/Jane
Rating: NC-17
Words: 1749
Notes: Spanking. For [community profile] kink_bingo, prompt "spanking/paddling", and a prompt at The Annual Femslash Kink Meme.
Summary: “Jane, are you suggesting that I spank you in the name of science?”



Sif takes a step forward, close enough that Jane has to tilt her head back to keep eye contact. There’s this slight twitch to her lips, like Sif’s trying very hard to suppress a fond smile.

“Jane, are you suggesting that I spank you in the name of science?”

Well, when Sif puts it like that, Jane feels sort of ridiculous.

“No, I’m -” Jane swallows thickly, takes a deep breath in through her nose. “Yes. Yes, that’s exactly what I’m requesting.”

Sif nods slowly, her gaze raking down over Jane’s body. She moves back, and Jane balls her hands into fists at her sides so she won’t wring at them self-consciously.

“It’s just that you’ve been working so hard on regulating your strength, keeping it at Midgardian levels when necessary,” Jane hears herself say and, oh God, here comes the babbling. “And when we’re - When we make love, I know you’d never hurt me.” The urge to wring her hands is rising. “But this could be a, well, an opportunity, to test levels of force, striking something not too hard and not too soft.” Also, she really wants it.

Sif tilts her head, considering. “And you would trust me with this?”

“Of course,” Jane replies instantly. Her voice sounds embarrassingly earnest, even to her own ears.

Sif watches her for another long beat. Jane’s fingers slide a little against her palms where they’re growing sweaty.

“Very well, then,” Sif says quietly. “I am honoured.” Her voice is earnest, too, but from Sif it sounds regal and grand, not breathless and painfully enthusiastic. Sif’s hand reaches out, brushes hair behind Jane’s ear. “You should undress.”

Jane feels her face heat up, although the flush is about ninety percent anticipation and excitement. The other ten percent, the nervousness, makes her laugh awkwardly, but she unbuttons her pants, shoving them down her legs.

Sif sits on the edge of the bed. Her pupils are dilated, and Jane recognises that she’s taking meditative breaths, trying to keep herself focused. Just the thought of Sif being as turned-on for this as she is makes heat swell between Jane’s legs.

“Across my lap, face-down,” Sif instructs her, a roughness to the words. The swell of heat gets hotter.

Jane does as she’s told, shuffling a little, getting as comfortable as she can in such a strange position. Her hips are raised over Sif’s thighs, and she braces her hands and elbows on the bed. Jane wills herself to relax, but it’s only when Sif’s hand strokes down her spine through the thin fabric of her shirt that she releases the breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding.

“I may be no scientist, but I believe that if this is to be a true experiment,” Sif intones, although Jane can hear the teasing smirk in her voice, “you must keep me informed of the results.” Her hand strokes over Jane’s back again; she relaxes a little further. “You must tell me if I strike you too firmly.” There’s a sense of seriousness in those last words, and Jane wriggles until she can look over her shoulder.

Sif raises an eyebrow expectantly.

“I promise,” Jane stresses. She wouldn’t be doing this is she weren’t already confident in Sif’s control; she’d never put Sif in the kind of position where she could hurt someone she loved.

Jane’s still a little in awe of the fact that Sif loves her.

She turns back, looking down at the mattress. “I’m ready,” she says.

“We’ll see,” Sif murmurs, voice dark and full of sex, and Jane’s already racing heart kicks up another notch, and that’s when the first slap lands.

It’s reasonably light, just a minor sting. Sif’s palm connects and jerks away quickly, but Jane still gasps for it. The sting fades almost instantly into a light buzzing over her skin.

“Acceptable?” Sif asks, and there’s that teasing tone again.

“You could -” Jane stops, licks her lips. The buzzing is lessening already. “It could be harder.”

“Could it now?” Sif muses. Jane wants to see her face, but she can’t quite make herself move. “You’re sure of that, after only a single blow?”

Jane bites her lip, smiling down at the sheets. “Well, it’s true, as a scientist I should probably gather more data before we escalate the experiment.” She trails off at the sound of Sif’s laughter; that ten percent nervousness melts away at the sound.

“We’ll continue, then?” Sif prompts her.

Jane nods. She knows she has that ‘stupid Jane-thinking-about-Sif grin’, as Darcy has named it, stretched wide across her face. “We will.”

Sif breathes in slowly, and then the slaps begin again. They’re all carefully that same light snap against her skin - some are spaced widely apart, others landing in quick succession, as if Sif is flicking her wrist without taking her hand away from Jane’s skin. The stings start to feel less like individual sparks of sensation, becoming one bright burn instead. The buzzing feels like it’s no longer just on the surface, but like it’s permeating deeper and deeper into the flesh.

Jane’s panting by the time Sif stops, and she’s pretty sure her ass is bright pink.

“How do you feel, Jane?” Sif asks her carefully.

Jane suspects ‘really turned-on’ probably isn’t an adequate answer. Sif’s hand rubs slowly over her ass, stimulating the heat in Jane’s skin. It’s wonderfully distracting. “Ready to escalate,” Jane manages to say, and Sif’s hand pauses, then squeezes at her in a way that makes Jane shiver and arch her back into the touch.

“Very well,” Sif murmurs. “Harder, then. You remember your promise?”

“I’ll tell you if it’s too hard,” Jane recites quickly.

“Good. Are you ready?”

Jane nods, and then Sif’s hand is connecting with her ass again, and Jane realises she is definitely not ready. It’s harder, although nowhere near the kind of power she knows Sif is capable of. But this time it isn’t simply a light and fleeting slap - it’s a solid blow, palm wide and heavy across her ass, and it sets off lights in Jane’s head, makes the realisation finally sink in that she’s really being spanked.

Jane could never be ready for what it does to her, and her groan is mortifyingly loud.

She couldn’t even say why she wants this. Maybe it’s something to do with allowing herself to be out of control when her career requires such dedication, maybe it’s indulging in something physical and taboo when usually she’s so logical and reserved. Maybe she just finds it sexy.

Or maybe it’s because it’s Sif, who is strong and proud and kind and loyal and who makes Jane weak at the knees when she smiles.

Sif spanks her again and again. There’s a rhythm to it this time, but her palm falls in different places, across the centre of both cheeks or from the side or low across her ass, making the tops of Jane’s thighs tense and tremble. The solid pressure of it forces a breath out of Jane every time, and she watches as her hands claw at the sheets as if they’re moving without her permission.

The sound of it is obscene, filling the room, and with every thwack of flesh-on-flesh, a shooting thrill of pleasure courses between Jane’s legs. She’s already slick, pussy feeling swollen and sensitive as she tries to press her thighs together.

Sif pauses, and Jane actually whimpers, because she’s nowhere near ready for this to stop. But Sif nudges Jane’s thighs back apart with ease, always able to manhandle her so casually, and then she’s pulling at Jane’s underwear, dragging it up higher. It exposes the cheeks of her ass and pulls the fabric taut against her cunt, rubbing it against her, another kind of pressure as Sif resumes her spanking.

Jane presses her face to the sheets and tries not to fall apart.

By the time Sif pauses again, Jane’s rocking on her lap, trying to press back against Sif’s palm, trying to press forward into the drag of fabric across her labia. She’s gulping at the air, feeling like her whole body is on fire, toes curling and mouth open, panties soaked through.

“I fear your theory did not take one important factor into consideration,” Sif tells her, sounding raw with desire. “Although I can indeed control my strength, it is my stamina you should have considered.”

She pushes the heel of her palm down against Jane’s ass; Jane whines, sweat sticking her hair to her neck, teeth marks across her lower lip.

“There is no physical exertion for me in this,” Sif continues, and it’s only in the bedroom that her voice that low and throaty. “Which means I could do it all night.”

“Oh God,” Jane gasps, trying to rub herself against Sif’s thighs.

“Perhaps I shall be content to stop once you come for me.” Sif pushes her hand beneath Jane’s stomach, slides it down until she’s cupping Jane’s mound, fingers a teasing presence as they press up against her folds through her panties. “So wet,” she sighs, and then there’s the telltale shift of air as her arm rises again.

It’s even worse; it’s even better. Every slap of Sif’s palm makes Jane’s cunt pulse but pushes her away from the fingers between her legs, forcing Jane to grind back against them between blows. She squirms and bucks across Sif’s lap, fucking herself between Sif’s hands, chills running down her back and building at the base of her spine like a storm. She can feel herself clenching in time to Sif’s rhythm, body working itself closer and closer, and then Sif crooks her fingers higher so they drag against Jane’s clit.

Jane can’t even find her voice when she comes, mouth working around a silent scream, and Sif spanks her through it, stretching the pleasure out, another wave of heat coursing through her with every strike of Sif’s hand.

She’s boneless when Sif finally stops, ass throbbing, but in a way that feels incredible, not to mention satisfying. She lets Sif scoop her up and settle her across the bed properly, laying her down on her front.

“Would you call the experiment successful?” Sif teases her gently.

The only reply Jane can muster is an incoherent noise and another twitch of her hips.

“It would appear so,” Sif smiles, pressing a soft kiss to Jane’s temple.

Jane buries her ‘stupid Jane-thinking-about-Sif grin’ in the pillows with a happy sigh.

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