<div class="floatright">(http://susansternberg.files.wordpress.com/2011/05/natalie-portman-thor-movie.jpg)   </div><strong>Name:</strong>Jane Foster<br/><strong>Title:</strong>Stark Industries Consultant<br/><strong>Locale:</strong>Jane's Room<br/><strong>Time:</strong>7:07 pm, Eastern time<br/><strong>Tags:</strong>Thor<br/><hr/><br/>For his own part, Thor did not hesitate, tugging his armor off his chest with little ado, and Jane had to be grateful for his tendency to act rather than debate. Left to her own devices, she might play the Hamlet, perpetually thinking and plotting instead of<em>doing</em>.<br/><br/>Thor's warrior lifestyle - and perhaps magical alien DNA, who knew? - had gifted him with a sculpted physique, and<em>this</em>time Jane could admire him openly, not gawking awkwardly and looking away as she'd done when they'd first met and he'd changed clothes in her lab. (She still blushed a little, though, despite herself)<br/><br/>His weight settled on the mattress behind her, large hand sliding up from her hips to her shoulders, skimming over her breasts. The kiss Thor planted at the nape of her neck was the match Jane needed to spur her into action, and she squirmed away from his touch, just long enough to pull her jacket over and off, revealing her simple camisole underneath. The thin cloth did little to hide the outline of her nipples, firm from pent-up anticipation.<br/><br/>Jane swiveled in place, turning to face Thor and tucking her knees beneath her. She reached out, tracing fingertips over his hand and along his forearm. "Can I touch you?" she asked. It might've been a stupid question, except, she really had no way to gauge Thor's expectations for sex (Maybe Asgardians just threw each other against a wall and had at it; she had no clue), so she was going to take the steady, scientific approach.<br/><br/><em>Mapping out the contours of Thor's body was going to be a whole hell of lot more fun than diagramming star clusters.</em>