(MCU) Heavy Beats
May 1st, 2015 21:19![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
salmon_pinkTitle: Heavy Beats
Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Pairing: Natasha/Darcy
Rating: NC-17
Words: 1322
Notes: BDSM. Spanking. For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
avengers_tables, prompt "iPod", a prompt at avengerkink, and Femslash Friday.
Summary: Darcy's goading her, because Natasha knows her taste in music isn't that bad.
“Seriously?” Natasha asks. She’s standing in Darcy’s open doorway, leaning against the frame with her arms crossed.
Darcy turns and smiles at her. “What, you don’t like music now?”
Natasha raises an eyebrow. “That’s what this is?” It sounds more like explosions and electronic drills with inexplicable bell tinkling thrown in. It definitely isn’t Darcy’s usual taste in music, so clearly Darcy’s making a point here, having it up so loud, door left open.
“Wanna dance with me?” Darcy asks with an exaggerated flutter of her eyelashes and a cheeky grin.
Natasha smirks, shakes her head. “Not tonight. Keep it down, would you?”
Darcy’s grin slides into a pout, but Natasha ignores it. If Darcy’s making a point, Natasha’s gonna make a point of her own. Which is that she won’t be goaded by Darcy’s antics.
Natasha’s the one in control, after all.
Honestly, she likes having Darcy share a floor with her at the tower. Doesn’t happen all that often, because Darcy’s on tour with Jane a lot of the time, and Natasha’s busy working all over the globe.
It’s nice, having Darcy right there when she wants her, because Natasha always wants her.
But it’s been a long day, and as good as sex sounds, sleep sounds better.
At least Stark’s built soundproofing into the walls, so Natasha gets some much needed peace when the door to her bedroom closes behind her.
She’s up early the next day, since she promised Steve a sparring session in the morning, and then she’s flying to Miami to meet with Pepper for lunch. Lunch turns to drinks, and it’s late by the time she gets back to New York. Natasha’s looking forward to an evening just relaxing, but when the elevator doors open on her floor, it’s like walking into a wall made of solid noise.
Darcy’s door is wide open, and what sounds like a mixture of Gregorian chanting and cats coughing up hairballs over a thumping bass track spills out into the hall.
Natasha knocks on the open door, and when Darcy doesn’t hear her over the music, she throws her boot at the wall beside Darcy’s head.
“Hey sunshine,” Darcy calls once she turns, shouting to be heard over the music. “I waited up for you.”
Natasha crosses the room, leans over the chair Darcy’s sat in. Watching the way Darcy smiles softly, leaning in, head tilted up. Wearing a baggy t-shirt and sweats that Natasha wants to peel her out of, glasses pushed up in her hair.
They’re close enough that Natasha can feel Darcy’s coffee-scented breath.
She doesn’t break eye contact as she reaches over and jabs the pause button on Darcy’s iPod. “You shouldn’t have,” Natasha murmurs, and then she’s turning away, walking out the door and heading for her own room.
She doesn’t miss Darcy’s muttered, “Spoilsport.”
It’s not that she doesn’t want to play into Darcy’s little game. Hell, Darcy’s playfulness and stubborn refusal to back down are a big part of what makes her interesting.
But Natasha’s going to do it on her terms.
So when she gets back to the tower the next night and walks straight past Darcy’s room, despite the open door and blaring 80s music, it’s all about showing Darcy who’s in charge here.
Natasha waits a good hour in the common area that separates their rooms, scrolling through files on her tablet. During that time, Darcy plays Club Tropicana eleven times.
Natasha knows. She counted.
The wickedly gleeful grin Darcy gives her when Natasha finally steps into her bedroom makes it very clear Darcy thinks she’s won.
“Gonna dance with me tonight?” she teases, and Natasha has to fight down a wolfish smile.
Tonight isn’t going to go how Darcy expects, that’s for sure. Because Natasha’s tired and sore from a raid on a HYDRA base that turned out not to be as empty as their intel suggested, but she’s also gone far too long without getting her hands on Darcy’s skin.
Darcy splutters indignantly when Natasha shoots her iPod with a electrically-charged dart, but the silence is worth it. It allows to Natasha to hear Darcy’s delicious little yelp when Natasha hauls her close by her collar, watching Darcy’s pupils dilate as Natasha licks her lips.
“You’re a brat,” she growls.
“Most definitely,” Darcy agrees. “You should totally punish me. With sex.”
Natasha can’t hold back her predatory grin any longer.
She manhandles Darcy towards the bed, but doesn’t push her back against the mattress like Darcy’s clearly anticipating. Instead she sits heavily on the edge of the bed, drags Darcy down by her t-shirt.
By the time Darcy apparently figures out what’s happening, she’s already got Darcy sprawled facedown and ass-up across her lap, just the way Natasha wants her.
“Hey, wait a minute,” Darcy babbles, voice getting higher-pitched. “Can we talk about this?”
“Nope, afraid not,” Natasha replies in a singsong voice.
Darcy makes the cutest little squeaking sound when Natasha yanks her pyjamas down over her ass.
Oh, Natasha’s going to enjoy this.
Her hand smacks down on Darcy’s ass with the most delightful slap of flesh-on-flesh, and Darcy squeaks again, hands fisting in the sheets. The mark turns white, and Natasha knows it’ll flood with colour within seconds, but she doesn’t give it time. She spanks Darcy fast, feeling the way she squirms over Natasha’s lap, head dropping down and breathing heavily.
She already knows Darcy won’t safeword out, she wouldn’t even try this if she thought that was a possibility. Darcy’s got an endless appetite for everything Natasha offers her, and she's impressively shameless when it comes to sex.
She’s a mischievous little Sub who takes way too much joy in pushing Natasha’s buttons, but that just makes it all the more fun to discipline her.
Darcy’s rocking now, gasping and working her hips. “Christ, Natasha,” comes out as a whine, and she’s trying to grind herself down against Natasha’s thighs, but the angle's all wrong for her like this.
Her ass is starting to get a nice, deep shade of pink, and Natasha smacks her harder, until her palm is stinging with it, the sweetest kind of ache. Hearing every helpless little noise Darcy makes, and Natasha’s palm is throbbing, her pussy is throbbing, but she’s not done yet.
“Spread your legs,” she orders, and Darcy does with a whimper. Shaking and keening as Natasha opens up her with deft fingers, fucking her quick and shallow, and Darcy’s making noises like sobs now, trying to chase Natasha’s touch, trying to get her deeper.
“You need to learn some patience,” she hisses, punctuating every word with a thrust of her hand, and Darcy nods mindlessly, cunt so slick with need around Natasha’s fingers.
She cries out sharply when Natasha twists her hands free, and then squeals when Natasha tips her over from her lap and onto the floor.
Natasha grins down at her while Darcy blinks in confusion, looking dazed and flushed, pyjamas still around her thighs.
“You want me to make you come?” Natasha purrs.
Darcy opens and closes her mouth a few times, but still manages to sound sarcastic as hell when she grouses, “Um, yeah, that would be nice.”
Natasha drags the zipper of her uniform down her chest, spreading her legs as she does.
“You’re gonna eat me out, now,” she informs Darcy with a smirk. “Nice and slow, to make up for the day I’ve had.” Darcy licks her lips, pushing up on to her knees. “And if you do a good enough job, maybe then I’ll finish what I started and fuck you till you cry.”
“Yeah, okay, I can do that,” Darcy says with barely-restrained enthusiasm.
Maybe she can be taught patience, after all.
Natasha laughs, low and husky, and uses Darcy’s hair to pull her mouth where she wants it.
She’ll buy Darcy a new iPod in the morning. And a decent pair of headphones too.
Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Pairing: Natasha/Darcy
Rating: NC-17
Words: 1322
Notes: BDSM. Spanking. For
avengers_tables, prompt "iPod", a prompt at avengerkink, and Femslash Friday.Summary: Darcy's goading her, because Natasha knows her taste in music isn't that bad.
“Seriously?” Natasha asks. She’s standing in Darcy’s open doorway, leaning against the frame with her arms crossed.
Darcy turns and smiles at her. “What, you don’t like music now?”
Natasha raises an eyebrow. “That’s what this is?” It sounds more like explosions and electronic drills with inexplicable bell tinkling thrown in. It definitely isn’t Darcy’s usual taste in music, so clearly Darcy’s making a point here, having it up so loud, door left open.
“Wanna dance with me?” Darcy asks with an exaggerated flutter of her eyelashes and a cheeky grin.
Natasha smirks, shakes her head. “Not tonight. Keep it down, would you?”
Darcy’s grin slides into a pout, but Natasha ignores it. If Darcy’s making a point, Natasha’s gonna make a point of her own. Which is that she won’t be goaded by Darcy’s antics.
Natasha’s the one in control, after all.
Honestly, she likes having Darcy share a floor with her at the tower. Doesn’t happen all that often, because Darcy’s on tour with Jane a lot of the time, and Natasha’s busy working all over the globe.
It’s nice, having Darcy right there when she wants her, because Natasha always wants her.
But it’s been a long day, and as good as sex sounds, sleep sounds better.
At least Stark’s built soundproofing into the walls, so Natasha gets some much needed peace when the door to her bedroom closes behind her.
She’s up early the next day, since she promised Steve a sparring session in the morning, and then she’s flying to Miami to meet with Pepper for lunch. Lunch turns to drinks, and it’s late by the time she gets back to New York. Natasha’s looking forward to an evening just relaxing, but when the elevator doors open on her floor, it’s like walking into a wall made of solid noise.
Darcy’s door is wide open, and what sounds like a mixture of Gregorian chanting and cats coughing up hairballs over a thumping bass track spills out into the hall.
Natasha knocks on the open door, and when Darcy doesn’t hear her over the music, she throws her boot at the wall beside Darcy’s head.
“Hey sunshine,” Darcy calls once she turns, shouting to be heard over the music. “I waited up for you.”
Natasha crosses the room, leans over the chair Darcy’s sat in. Watching the way Darcy smiles softly, leaning in, head tilted up. Wearing a baggy t-shirt and sweats that Natasha wants to peel her out of, glasses pushed up in her hair.
They’re close enough that Natasha can feel Darcy’s coffee-scented breath.
She doesn’t break eye contact as she reaches over and jabs the pause button on Darcy’s iPod. “You shouldn’t have,” Natasha murmurs, and then she’s turning away, walking out the door and heading for her own room.
She doesn’t miss Darcy’s muttered, “Spoilsport.”
It’s not that she doesn’t want to play into Darcy’s little game. Hell, Darcy’s playfulness and stubborn refusal to back down are a big part of what makes her interesting.
But Natasha’s going to do it on her terms.
So when she gets back to the tower the next night and walks straight past Darcy’s room, despite the open door and blaring 80s music, it’s all about showing Darcy who’s in charge here.
Natasha waits a good hour in the common area that separates their rooms, scrolling through files on her tablet. During that time, Darcy plays Club Tropicana eleven times.
Natasha knows. She counted.
The wickedly gleeful grin Darcy gives her when Natasha finally steps into her bedroom makes it very clear Darcy thinks she’s won.
“Gonna dance with me tonight?” she teases, and Natasha has to fight down a wolfish smile.
Tonight isn’t going to go how Darcy expects, that’s for sure. Because Natasha’s tired and sore from a raid on a HYDRA base that turned out not to be as empty as their intel suggested, but she’s also gone far too long without getting her hands on Darcy’s skin.
Darcy splutters indignantly when Natasha shoots her iPod with a electrically-charged dart, but the silence is worth it. It allows to Natasha to hear Darcy’s delicious little yelp when Natasha hauls her close by her collar, watching Darcy’s pupils dilate as Natasha licks her lips.
“You’re a brat,” she growls.
“Most definitely,” Darcy agrees. “You should totally punish me. With sex.”
Natasha can’t hold back her predatory grin any longer.
She manhandles Darcy towards the bed, but doesn’t push her back against the mattress like Darcy’s clearly anticipating. Instead she sits heavily on the edge of the bed, drags Darcy down by her t-shirt.
By the time Darcy apparently figures out what’s happening, she’s already got Darcy sprawled facedown and ass-up across her lap, just the way Natasha wants her.
“Hey, wait a minute,” Darcy babbles, voice getting higher-pitched. “Can we talk about this?”
“Nope, afraid not,” Natasha replies in a singsong voice.
Darcy makes the cutest little squeaking sound when Natasha yanks her pyjamas down over her ass.
Oh, Natasha’s going to enjoy this.
Her hand smacks down on Darcy’s ass with the most delightful slap of flesh-on-flesh, and Darcy squeaks again, hands fisting in the sheets. The mark turns white, and Natasha knows it’ll flood with colour within seconds, but she doesn’t give it time. She spanks Darcy fast, feeling the way she squirms over Natasha’s lap, head dropping down and breathing heavily.
She already knows Darcy won’t safeword out, she wouldn’t even try this if she thought that was a possibility. Darcy’s got an endless appetite for everything Natasha offers her, and she's impressively shameless when it comes to sex.
She’s a mischievous little Sub who takes way too much joy in pushing Natasha’s buttons, but that just makes it all the more fun to discipline her.
Darcy’s rocking now, gasping and working her hips. “Christ, Natasha,” comes out as a whine, and she’s trying to grind herself down against Natasha’s thighs, but the angle's all wrong for her like this.
Her ass is starting to get a nice, deep shade of pink, and Natasha smacks her harder, until her palm is stinging with it, the sweetest kind of ache. Hearing every helpless little noise Darcy makes, and Natasha’s palm is throbbing, her pussy is throbbing, but she’s not done yet.
“Spread your legs,” she orders, and Darcy does with a whimper. Shaking and keening as Natasha opens up her with deft fingers, fucking her quick and shallow, and Darcy’s making noises like sobs now, trying to chase Natasha’s touch, trying to get her deeper.
“You need to learn some patience,” she hisses, punctuating every word with a thrust of her hand, and Darcy nods mindlessly, cunt so slick with need around Natasha’s fingers.
She cries out sharply when Natasha twists her hands free, and then squeals when Natasha tips her over from her lap and onto the floor.
Natasha grins down at her while Darcy blinks in confusion, looking dazed and flushed, pyjamas still around her thighs.
“You want me to make you come?” Natasha purrs.
Darcy opens and closes her mouth a few times, but still manages to sound sarcastic as hell when she grouses, “Um, yeah, that would be nice.”
Natasha drags the zipper of her uniform down her chest, spreading her legs as she does.
“You’re gonna eat me out, now,” she informs Darcy with a smirk. “Nice and slow, to make up for the day I’ve had.” Darcy licks her lips, pushing up on to her knees. “And if you do a good enough job, maybe then I’ll finish what I started and fuck you till you cry.”
“Yeah, okay, I can do that,” Darcy says with barely-restrained enthusiasm.
Maybe she can be taught patience, after all.
Natasha laughs, low and husky, and uses Darcy’s hair to pull her mouth where she wants it.
She’ll buy Darcy a new iPod in the morning. And a decent pair of headphones too.
