"I bet they never let you have any downtime, huh?"

If Malekith understood, he gave no sign. His head was drooping forward, his silvery hair tickled Darcy's cheek, and his eyes were closed and his lips parted as she ran her fingers over his inner arm.

"Well, it's a good thing you ran into me today. I'm mistress of downtime. I do nothing for a living!"

"You have many titles," murmured Malekith. "And many talentsss..." he broke off into a gasp.

Darcy grinned. She had her hands on both his hotspots now. She made a mental note to try it out on Ian - if she ever got out of there. Darcy risked a glance around the room between the dangling curtains of hair. Creepy torture-chair: check. Rack of dangerous-looking tools: check. Steel walls and floors with no discernible windows, air ducts or escape hatches: check. OK Darcy. You've got the upper hand. Alien dude is putty in your hands. All you have to do is get him on the chair, then you can ... er ... tie him to it and threaten to cut things off unless his minions let you out? Check!

Now to get him back on his feet. Cautiously, Darcy moved her hand from his right arm - Malekith's eyes shot open, fixing her with that red-black glare. OK, not check. Oh well, time to bring out the big guns - the other big guns. Her hand slipped under the waistband of his trousers - what the heck were they made of? - and grasped the most impressive alien appendage Darcy had ever held. She widened her eyes and fixed him with her best sexy grin as she began to move her hand rhythmically, pleased that it was having such an immediate and drastic effect.

"That a rocket in your pocket, space-man?"

Darcy was pushed back so fast, the first thing she knew about it was when the back of her head hit the floor.

"Ow!" She cried and then lapsed into silence as pretty silver stars circled in front of her eyes.

"You're good," Malekith snarled, taking advantage of her momentary disorientation by grabbing her legs and pulling them straight so he could kneel astride her. His knees pinned her hips and he leaned forward, planting his hands either side of her shoulders. Not sexy, not sexy at all. More like a large cat getting ready to play with a mouse. His face loomed above hers, "You're very good."

Darcy's head hurt so much, she had trouble thinking. Even so, she knew this wasn't going well. What had happened to her amazing plan and her 'upper hand'? The floor was totally not the place they were supposed to end up and wasn't she supposed to be the one on top? As the stars faded, Darcy found herself puzzling over why Malekith had come over all rabid, cave-man on her while telling her she was good; that was really weird. If she was 'good' then she must have been doing it right, right? And if she was doing it right, then he should've been happy, shouldn't he? Dude definitely wasn't happy. Was sex with aliens always this complicated?

Malekith laughed as he looked down at her and Darcy wondered if he had ever considered a career in the movies. Now did not seem to be quite the right time to mention it, but there must be loads of work for a guy who could do an evil laugh like that and he wouldn't need much make-up at all, if any; he'd be a total hit. Of course he'd have to give up his plans to destroy the world and stuff but hey, he'd be famous. Maybe if the sex was really good and she caught him at the right moment, you know, just as he was falling asleep, maybe she could get him to go for it and then she'd have saved the world and created a movie star at the same time. How cool was that?

"Yes, you're good," Malekith continued, interrupting her reverie, "but your plan was pitiful. Did you really think I'd fall for it?"

Malekith knew about her plan? How? She had only just thought of the movie-career bit and even now she had not worked all the details out.

"Did you really think I'd come in here carrying anything valuable on my person?" He asked. "And even if I had been so careless, did you really think I'd give it to you, for what, a few moments of luke-warm pleasure? Mistress of the ipod, you over-estimate your charms."

"Huh?" What was he talking about?

"Pocket…" he prompted.

Rocket. Darcy's mouth fell open as her brain made the connection. "Why you… you… you're really…" She spluttered a bit, her brain rejecting a lot of the words that came to mind as being too hazardous to her survival, words like 'dumb' and 'dinosaur'.

And what was it with the secret weapons? This dude thought about nothing else. Ok, so he was trying to destroy the entire world and blot out the sun for all eternity and that, so yeah, you'd expect him to have a couple of issues, but this was taking obsession to a whole new level and then bringing it back again for a second trip. Maybe it was his age or a blonde thing, but whatever it was, it had killed the moment, again.

Darcy realised she was getting more than a little frustrated. Since when had it been so hard to get laid?

"Look," she said, trying to think back a few years to her high school days (when admittedly it had been easier to get a boy's attention: heck, a short skirt on a blustery day would do it) "is it so hard to believe that I could, y'know, just want you?"

His face went blank. Ok, good. Blank was better than super-paranoid.

"I mean, look at you." Shoulders pinned, she managed to wiggle her hand free and prod a little at the undulating lines of muscle on his stomach. He tensed. And Darcy had a brain-wave. "You think I like it here? On this stupid planet? With stupid human men? You've seen them, right? No wonder you wanna nuke 'em. Nope -"

She warmed to her theme and stared Malekith right in the eye. Weird. Somehow that red flicker wasn't looking quite so scary now. And in a weirder way…wasn't being pinned down kinda…hot? Like in that novel Jane had bought at the airport and then tried to hide in her bedroom at the hotel. Like hiding was gonna work when you shared a hotel room. Fifty Shades Of Grey, that was it.

Well, dude was certainly that. Pale grey all over and hair like silver.

"Nope," she went on, going totally limp and compliant under Malekith's restraining grip. "I'm pretty sure you're the only one who's going to be able to do it for me."

She paused, trying to judge the effect. "Mally," she offered. They had to have pet names on other planets. If Thor could call his dumb hammer Mew-Mew -

Malekith's expression had changed. Grown thunderous.

"Kithy?" Darcy offered. "Lek-Lek?"

His head came down and Darcy squeaked as teeth grazed her collarbone. Followed swiftly by the swipe of tongue as he started to return her previous advances and lick her.

"Malekith," came the correction as his lips brushed her ear.

"Oh. Oh-oh-OK. Got it. No cute names."

"Silence."

Darcy clamped it. Until, that was, she felt big, cold hands sliding her skinny jeans down her thighs, and she had to bite her lip. To her own growing surprise it wasn't because his hands were shockingly cold (though they were) or because she was scared: it was because this was starting to feel really, really good.

Dude had skills.

And jeez Louise that floor was cold!

Concentrate, Darcy. This is life and death, forget your cold butt and keep an eye on what he's doing. Seconds later, her trousers were catapulting across the room and Malekith was staring intently at her lower half with a dafuq look on his face. Great. The flying heart underpants. Just what you want to be wearing when you're trying to seduce a megalomaniac alien with a face that looks like its owner sleeps on a chain-link fence.

"You wear many layers, Mistress of the iPod," hissed Malekith, close to her ear.

Dude for once didn't sound pissed. Maybe he liked the flying hearts. Note to self, aliens like kitsch.

"A predictable approach for a spy," he growled. The alien dude shifted, dropping the length of his body onto hers. "But I will uncover all your secrets," he promised.

As his cold fingers slipped inside her latest cutesy underwear addition (which she'd intended to flash at Ian later that day), Darcy decided that he could help himself to as many of her Victoria's Secrets as he wanted.