Jane Foster was looking forward to a shower to rid her skin of the grime that had collected through another fruitless day spent out in the dustbowl that was New Mexico. She dumped her keys and bag on the small table inside her front door and headed straight for the bathroom. It was a nice bathroom, en suite to the equally nice sleeping accommodations S.H.I.E.L.D had set her up in since Thor's appearance on earth. She considered it one of the small luxuries that made her existence bearable in his absence - ridiculous, she knew, when he was gone from her life barely 24 hours after he'd entered it.

She stripped off, carelessly depositing her clothes in a pile on the tiled floor and stepped under the cooling stream of water. The jets ran over her clammy skin, easing her tense muscles and soothing away some of her growing dejection that another day had passed without revealing the answers she sought. There was always tomorrow.

In the weeks that followed Thor's departure, she'd spent almost all of her time working to find a way back to him. To recreate the Bifrost somehow, open a portal, a wormhole, a stargate, anything she could think of, be it science fiction or science fact. But any spare moment not spent in scientific endeavour was devoted to fantasising about the object of her search.

Awake or asleep, Jane was constantly horny. She was restless and fidgety, even snappish to her colleagues at times. It'd been too long since she'd gotten laid, since she'd had a man's bulk weighing her down and his cock deep inside her. Her body seemed set to a constant low boil, simmering away slowly day and night and she was helpless to control it. It was the reason she blamed for her failure to see results.

She squeezed a dollop of shower gel into her palm, rubbed it into a soapy lather and ran her hands over her body.

No-one had ever had such an effect on her life. The moment he'd unveiled the prettiest blue eyes starred by dark blond lashes that she'd ever seen, she'd fallen a little in love with Thor. And more than just a little in lust. It was almost as if her body had recognised its true mate - trite as that may sound - been all too swiftly deprived of him and was now eagerly waiting, ever-ready, for his return.

Jane couldn't count the number of times she'd woken recently, frustrated, with sticky underwear and a racing heart. It was no wonder she hadn't found a route back to him yet. She couldn't concentrate. Her treacherous body kept distracting her mind from its work. And no matter how desperately she wanted to find him, that similarly traitorous mind was just too full of doing things other than ascertaining his location.

She massaged her breasts and sighed at the pleasant sensations.

Thor. He'd gone from crazy homeless guy mysteriously caught up in a massive tornado to thunder god in under a day. The man was a real life, honest-to-goodness god. It made her head spin just thinking it. But while they may be an advanced race, there was something almost primitive about him, something brutish that appealed to her baser instincts as a woman.

Thor. Even his name sounded primal. Thor. It sent pleasurable shivers radiating out through her tired limbs. She wondered if it would lend itself well to being screamed out in the throes of passion. Thhhooorr! Jane was more of a groaner than a screamer when she came so she'd never actually consciously tried it. Thor… Maybe tonight.

She pictured the first glimpse she'd had of his body.

Loath though Jane was to admit it, Darcy hadn't been the only one leering at that physique when he emerged from the bathroom wearing her ex's black jeans. She'd just adopted a more subtle approach to her spying, preferring to sneak peaks rather than just sit there unashamedly and stare. Part of her now wished she had. It would have given her better fodder for her fantasies.

Who didn't close the bathroom door when they changed their clothes anyway? She knew he wasn't flaunting himself, he just seemed so naturally comfortable in his skin it hadn't occurred to him to be embarrassed by his nakedness. Of course he probably wasn't aware he had two female earthlings eagerly checking out his reflection in the mirror, if one a little more apologetically than the other. Angle of incidence equals angle of reflection. God bless science.

Donald had never filled out those jeans that way, had he? Like they'd been specifically designed especially for him. If he had, they may have lasted a little longer. Oh, who was she kidding, the man was no good at relationships. Or much of anything else come to think of it. Dear sweet, sexually inept Donald. For an MD, his knowledge of the female anatomy seemed sadly lacking. She'd still have kept her vibrator, spare batteries at the ready, in the back of her underwear drawer. It wouldn't have mattered how well his jeans fit him.

And Jane couldn't pretend her eyes hadn't been drawn to the bulge at the front of his jeans besides noticing the way his butt filled out the rear. It didn't leave too much to the imagination. There was a mass of testosterone in there just asking to be unleashed. She was ready, she was willing and he certainly appeared able.

The mere thought of taking him into her tiny body, of her walls stretching to accommodate his girth made her stomach flip-flop and set a familiar frantic pulse racing between her legs. A guy that size, he had to be packing.

Jane groaned, hands kneading more firmly as her palms brushed her nipples. She wanted his hands on her body, palming her breasts, rolling their sensitive tips between his fingers. She wanted his sensuous mouth on hers and that thick cock inside her...

God, she needed to get her mind back above his waist.

Darcy's suggestive comments about the man and his weapon, or allusions to her cuddling up with her pet bunny at night weren't exactly helping matters either. And was it Jane's imagination or had her friend ordered them a couple of screaming Thorgasm cocktails at the bar last night? Knowing Darcy as she did, she was pretty sure she had.

Well so what if she had a vibrator getting her off. She was an adult, she had to get hers, any which way she could. Darcy hardly qualified as an expert on all things Jane, who was she to judge? It wasn't even a Rabbit anyway. It was just some cheap, slim-line piece of junk, earless, too thin for real internal satisfaction and not waterproof to boot. For the umpteenth time in recent weeks Jane cursed the fact that she hadn't forked out the extra and bought a decent one that she could use in the shower.

One little fact her friend wasn't privy to was that the filthy t-shirt Thor'd discarded following his failed attempt to retrieve Mjolnir hadn't found its way into the wash with the rest of his things. Darcy didn't know and Jane intended to keep it that way. It may have been mud-stained and rain-soaked but it was Thor shaped and it smelled of him. She'd retrieved it, brushed most of the residue off, folded it loosely and hidden it away at the back of her dresser. Third drawer down, next to the copy of that Facebook photo of him and her Rabbit that wasn't.

The scientist in her knew enough about pheromones to understand their influence. Inhaling his scent made her body respond every time she did it. Maybe that was why so many of the men she'd been in contact with recently had been checking her out or inviting her to dinner. To them she probably reeked of sex.

Were her feelings really that transparent? She certainly hoped not. Sure she'd left the lab in a bit of a hurry this evening for somebody who had no other destination than home, but that didn't automatically translate into in evening spent masturbating. Did it?

Jane refused to care. She was a grown woman, she had needs and no-one other than herself to satisfy them. Instead she returned her mind to the object of its affection.

For all his roaring and blustering she generally imagined Thor to be a considerate lover.

She'd glimpsed his tender side on several occasions during the short time they'd spent together. The way he looked at her up on the roof, his eyes soft in the firelight. The way his hand brushed hers as he took her notebook. The warmth of his lips against her knuckles when he touched his mouth to her hand. That chivalrous hand-kissing, so at odds with the actions of modern men had left her giggling like a teenager.

But for all she knew Thor was likening his time on earth with her to some holiday fling, a happy memory he'd already relegated to the back of his mind while she, a mortal, squandered precious months or years of her life trying to find a way back to him.

No, she wouldn't think that way! When she'd taken her chance and kissed his mouth, kissed him for the first and possibly the last time as well, she'd hoped it wasn't too forward, hoped desperately he'd respond in kind. And he had kissed her back! That was proof enough for Jane of his feelings for her.

Besides, the images in her head and the resulting sensations currently coursing through her body were just too pleasant to ruin with realism and doubts.

She thought of all the things about him that turned her on. Oh so many things.

His voice, that face. Those shoulders. Epic! The unblemished tan skin that stretched taut across his chest. Oh, what she wouldn't give to scribble equations and formulae across it. And the way his muscles swelled and tightened beneath that golden canvas? Mesmerising. Who had pecs like that anyway? A god, that's who.

And god, was he hot.

Her hand left her breast and travelled south to the small bundle of nerves at the apex of her thighs.

The way he'd jump-kicked that guy in the chest and sent him crashing to the muddy ground. Hot. When he strode out to face the Destroyer, blond hair shining in the sun. Suicidal but hot. When he'd risen from the dead when Mjolnir reclaimed him as worthy - hot - six feet three inches of prime beef walking back towards her in all his godly glory. Totally hot!

She was lusting after an alien, dear lord, surely she should be at least a little bit freaked out? As to what their Asgardian mating customs were, she could only guess. For all she knew he'd have her forever on her knees, mouth working overtime until he came with a triumphant shout of 'I like it! Another!'.

Oh, she didn't care, she couldn't care. He had a human form and that fact alone mitigated any misgivings she might have quite enough. The thought of his hands on her flooded her with a desire she hadn't know in… maybe ever.

She pushed two fingers into her body. God, she was wet and it had nothing to do with the shower. Jane groaned and screwed her eyes tight shut. She only had so many memories at her disposal. It was up to her imagination to take care of the rest. And boy had it ever obliged.

Sometimes he made gentle love to her in her fantasies. Sometimes he ate her out as she lay writhing on the bed beneath him, spread legs draped helplessly over his shoulders, her body open and vulnerable to him. Would he like that? Would he want his face in her cunt? She could picture the mixture of lust and mischief in those impossibly blue eyes as he looked up from his position between her thighs. The chill of his breath on her wet lips as he inhaled her deeply made her tremble in anticipation before she felt the gentle brush of his tongue against her clit as he took it in his hot mouth and sucked.

Jane forced in a third finger, curling them towards her as she sought out that illusive pleasure point. Her body hummed in appreciation when she located it.

Sometimes she rode him vigorously til he was bucking under her like a bronco, begging for release. Sometimes he was dressed in nothing but his cape; sometimes she was the one wearing it. Sometimes they even made inventive use of the shaft of his hammer. Of course she'd never dare defile his weapon in such a way in reality, but then this wasn't real life and she was the mistress of her imagination.

No doubt if he were here right now she'd likely be stammering and blushing like a virgin schoolgirl about to go on her first date. But in her fantasies she was all woman, confident and secure in the power of her femininity. In her fantasies she was the goddess and he the mere male helpless to resist.

Tonight, tonight his large hands were cupping her ass as he lifted her small form effortlessly and pushed his way into her willing body. Her ankles locked behind his back, heels digging into his butt as he fuck her into the wall, his hips pumping slow and steady as he thrust forward and back.

Her palm worked her clit frantically, rubbing as hard as she could determined to break though the final barrier and feel her body soaring.

Her heart hammered, knees wobbled, blood rushed through her veins.

He moved them to the bed, withdrew and flipped her over on her hands and knees. And then he was back there, right there, pounding into her from behind, huge and powerful as his thighs slapped against hers on the in-stroke.

Her fingers plunged deeper, moved faster as she chased down her climax. Thunder rumbled loud overhead like he was there with her.

So close, so very close…

His thrusts were erratic now, the strong arm across her stomach practically lifting her knees from the bed as he began to lose control, tried to get deeper inside her. God, there was no deeper. She could feel him in her chest like a battering ram. His free hand abandoned her breast and snaked down to handle her clit, tweaking viciously and…

Thor, she yelped as her orgasm took hold, heedless of anyone who might be within earshot to hear. She rode out the storm, struggling to remain upright amidst the violent clenching of her internal muscles. Her hand worked furiously to make the feelings even more intense, to make them last as long as possible, as her mind imaged those walls squeezing an appendage much larger and more gratifying than her own fingers.

As the aftershocks began to fade and the tingles receded from her toes, Jane slid down the cool tiles to the floor, a breathless and boneless heap.

Thor. A satisfied grin spread its way across her face as she pushed her wet hair from her eyes. Perhaps it didn't lend itself well to being screamed out in the throes of passion. And just maybe it damn well did.

A/N. Thanks for reading. Everyone loves a reviewer. ;)