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Post by Silas Rosier on Feb 5, 2010 12:43:41 GMT 1
There were no words for how much Silas hated work.
Or, not work specifically. That wasn’t right. He could chew through an encyclopaedia on vampires in less than a day and get whatever information he wanted more efficiently than a librarian, but when it came to specific tasks he had to do it was like getting Dacian to march in a Gay Rights parade wearing a garter belt and fishnets.
So, the fact he’d been doing admin work for Scores for several hours straight – sans break and without someone pointing a wand at the back of his head – was nothing short of a miracle. It was also another thing to add to the very long list of reasons Silas was starting to become jokingly convinced he was going insane.
And it was all Jac’s fault.
The tip of his eagle-feather quill scratched against another sheet of parchment, pausing only to dab at the ink bottle or whenever Silas cast a sidewards glance at the woman next to him. Just because Scores was undergoing construction didn’t mean everyone got a free holiday; somehow the paperwork had stacked faster than either of them could cope. Being the boss had its own share of pitfalls to go along with the perks, and this was one of them. Not that time with Jac was much of a pitfall, but paperwork to keep the Ministry satisfied definitely was.
With the building down for the count, both of them had ended up turning Silas’s home study into a makeshift office. Jac’s idea, although Silas’s enthusiasm had dulled a little bit when he realised that by ‘coming over to work’ she actually meant ‘work’.
Hell, he wasn’t even sure why he was still here. He’d been reassuring himself he was only hanging around for the sex-potential later in the night, but as the clocked ticked on he was cottoning onto the fact he was merely bullshitting himself. If that was all it was he’d have made a move by now.
... It was nice. Here. With her. Just time alone. And you know what? That fact was confusing the shit out of him.
Silas wasn’t quite sure what had changed where Jac was concerned. He knew something had happened, and hell, he’d even pinpointed the exact moment it’d started to shortly before Abe walked in on them, but when it actually came down to defining what it was he found himself completely lost.
He was noticing her more, for one. Not that he didn’t always notice her, but this was different. It wasn’t just ‘Oh hey, Jac’s here, let’s see if we can fuck’ (even though they’d been doing a good deal of that lately), it was more like ‘Oh hey, Jac’s here, why the hell do I feel sooo...’
Scratch that, he didn’t even know.
Describing it was difficult. He knew how it felt but not what word to attribute to it.
Had to be a phase, right?
Except that it wasn’t, because the damn thing wouldn’t stop. He wasn’t even sure if she was on his mind so much because he was wondering what was going on in his own head or if— Again, he didn’t know. He knew what it did to him though. Like the smiles. Silas was so used to throwing on smiles it was practically second nature, but unless he was laughing at something funny none of them were ever real. Except for that time a few days ago he’d found himself smiling at her – like, genuinely smiling – and he’d been so surprised it’d swept right back off his face again. That had been the first of several. He’d gotten used to it by now, but it was still weird as hell.
With those thoughts swirling in his mind it was another miracle he’d gotten anything done at all. The daylight had eventually faded, causing the small enchanted lights on Silas’s roof to spring up and swarm together again. Aside from a scattered conversations about finance and one incident where they’d found out the hard way putting a right-hander to the right of a left-hander meant a lot of bumped elbows, resulting in a swap of seating, Jac hadn’t spoken all that much either, a fact which made him feel a bit... like what he thought scared would be like, but not nearly as dramatic and more a passive niggling. Why wasn’t she talking? But then she always got like this around numbers so he was probably making mountains out of gnomehills.
It was the sight of the tumbler being almost out of absinthe that finally spurred him into some sort of action. No one could be expected to work without a glass of something; that was just inhumane. “I think I need a topup.” He wasn’t used to sitting for long stretches and his legs felt like they hadn’t been used in far too long when he tried to move to get out of the chair. “Want anything?”
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Post by Jacaranda Mulciber on Feb 8, 2010 22:03:44 GMT 1
 [atrb=width,450,true][atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=cellpadding,0,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=background,http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v36/Tigeress/Random/postscripts/jac_bg.jpg,true][atrb=background,http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v36/Tigeress/Random/postscripts/jac_foot.jpg][atrb=style,background-position: bottom; background-repeat: no-repeat; padding: 2px 30px 88px 150px; text-align: justify;]Numbers to Jac were a hobby. Like some people might paint or stargaze to relax, numbers had that same cathartic effect on Jacaranda. The pages set out across the desk were a tidy mess of numbers, equations and long sums flowing across the parchment, all neatly written out in her strange shorthand. To her, it all made perfect sense. She had a system she worked to and she was in such a good mood that nothing could niggle at her. Even the occasional bored sigh from Silas could not ruin her calm.
Unlike Silas, Jac knew exactly what she was feeling and why. She was content, because Silas Rosier was under the spell of a love potion and so consequently wasn’t such an intolerable ass. For the last week, Jac had experienced sides to Silas she hadn’t known he had. He was mild, he could be caring, hell, and he could even be nice when he put his mind to it. The sarcastic edge was still there but it was dulled and never degrading. On the flip-side, the fire between them had turned into a blazing inferno. Inexplicably though, neither of them were burning.
The sex had been good before, but now it was fucking fantastic: intentional word choice. Who knew what potential she would have unlocked before she started slipping Silas a little daily love potion? Jacaranda felt like a goddess when Silas worshipped her with his body. Merlin, no love potion could give a man better skill in bed but apparently when Silas Rosier gave a damn, he gave it his all. Who knew?
Outwardly Jac appeared to be puzzling over a sum, absently nibbling the end of her peacock quill. Inwardly she’d gone back to bed, but it was not the typical daydream. Oh sure, the memories tickled her libido, but she was more concerned with the overwhelming satisfaction that she felt after the fact when the blinding orgasm had faded and she would realise what she had done.
She had tamed Silas. And that had been the point.
The Amortentia had been her last resort to regain control of what had been an increasingly hopeless situation. Silas’d had no respect for her, he’d run her down, spun her round and had her so lost in her desperation that she’d seen no other way out. But the Amortentia had set her back on track. It was like her confidence had blossomed once more and she could see clearly. Silas paid her the attention she deserved now, and she had him eating out of the palm of her hand. Sometimes literally.
She was stirred slowly from her thoughts by movement to her left, and she glanced up as Silas moved to get out of his chair. “Hmm?” She hummed absently at his question. She hadn’t been thinking much about her stomach, but now he mentioned it her throat was quite dry. “Oh, yes.” She didn’t specify what, he could probably make a fairly good guess at what she liked by now. She was about to turn back to her work when she realised she hadn’t slipped Silas any potion that night.
She stood rather abruptly, her quill dropping down on top of the unpressed parchment that rolled up around it. “Wait.” She rounded the desk to intercept the man and took the tumbler gently from his hand. “I’ll get it, we both need a break.” Now she’d come back to the here and now, she too could feel the ache in her legs and lower back at being sat so long and as she left the room, she absently stretched her arms out in front of her then behind, careful not to collide the tumbler with the doorframe.
She wore something quite casual compared to her usual attire. A long cotton dress, tied with a bow under her cleavage with a simple ribbon. It was patterned with intricate floral patterns, in two-tone blue. It hung loosely around her hips, and stopped below the knee. If it weren’t for the steep V where the dress dipped from her collar to her cleavage, it might actually have been demure. Her hair was tied back, though loosely, and with a ribbon to match the one around her ribs. The dress had built-in support for her chest and so the only other thing she wore was a lacy white thong. With their recent track record, the fewer clothes the better.
She passed her shoes and coat on her way barefoot across the hall to the kitchen and snagged her purse as she went. She’d been to Silas’s home enough that she could find her way to the kitchen without much light, but as she stepped onto the cool marble floor of the kitchen, a lazy swarm of enchanted lights like those in the study began to glow, illuminating the sleek surfaces and reflecting in the various utensils hung about the place.
Glancing behind her as she went to one of the many cupboards where Silas kept his alcohol (really, how many bottles did one man need?), Jac ensured he had not followed before she sloshed a generous helping of absinthe into the tumbler and rooted in her purse for the vial of Amortentia. One more fugitive glance later, and she was carefully dripping the potion into the alcohol. She had kept Silas on a low dose, knowing the man was intelligent and not wanting to arouse suspicions.
Suspicions as of yet lay dormant, but the potion served to arouse other things.
Whoops, one drop too many. Jac chewed her lip, weighing the option of throwing the drink away and starting afresh against giving the stronger dose to Silas and observing the affects. Oh sod it. It had all gone well so far, she may as well get in the gambling spirit and test her luck.
She returned the vial to her purse, carefully hidden under miscellaneous objects only a woman could deem essential, and fixed herself a drink before returning with both glasses to the study. Silas had moved, presumably stretching his legs, so Jac crossed the room and handed him the now full tumbler. “Here.” She gave a tired smile, and retreated to sit on the chaise lounge near the fireplace. Jac was not a master of subtlety, so her sideways glances at him could not be missed as she checked that he was drinking but considering their relationship, at least her interest might easily be mistaken for something less suspicious.
Merlin, she was in a world of trouble if he ever found out what she was doing. She just had to hope that he never did.
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Post by Silas Rosier on Feb 13, 2010 9:59:38 GMT 1
Jac absently mumbled an assent and Silas nodded once to signify he’d understood. Thank God. Any more time in this room was going to be detrimental to his health. Unfortunately for him, he only managed to take three or four paces when there was a sudden flurry of movement from Jac’s seat as she shot up to intercept him.
“Wait,” she interrupted hurriedly. Silas stopped, looking up to find her crossing around the desk towards him. Perhaps she’d noticed his questioning look, because she quickly added “I’ll get it, we both need a break,” before attempting to pry the tumbler from his fingers. Somehow, she managed to achieve it without having to put up with any signs of protest.
“Alright, I’ll go with,” Silas replied.
Jac, evidently, had other ideas. "No, don't worry,” she countered a little too hurriedly. “Can you gather my scrolls in order? They're numbered."
Eeeerm...
Silas couldn’t even formulate a proper response before Jac turned on her heel and headed towards the kitchen. What the fu—He blinked confusedly, a familiar frown starting to build on his features. Gather her papers? What did he look like, a secretary?
... Fine.
He didn’t make a move again until Jac was out of his sight. Obvious joke about ‘views’ aside and as dumb as it sounded, he didn’t like watching her walk away. Which just left him with... papers. Lots and lots of papers. Brilliant.
Silas stalked around the desk once if only because if his legs didn’t move soon they were going to need to be amputated. What was that charm Jac always used? Half-formed incantations were floating around his memory. This was ridiculous; he could confidently knock out a six and a half century old vampire in ten seconds flat but when it came to simple organisational charms he was way over his head.
Silas fished his wand out of his pocket and held it over Jac’s mess of unintelligible sheets almost apprehensively. Only one way to find out if he knew what he was doing. Silas muttered a crude imitation of an enchantment he’d once heard her use and at once all the sheets shot up into the air, littering down like flakes in a snow globe and settling in a pile he could only hope was ordered.
Okay. Looking promising. Silas put his wand back in his pocket and lifted the parchment to check the numbers (or what looked like numbers) on the top corner. ... Well, shit. The parchment had ordered itself alright, but in a pattern of 1, 11, 21, 2, 12, 22, and so forth in a system based on the final number. Not even slightly what he was after.
... Fuck it. Vampires were easier.
A second attempt, using a variation of the same spell, didn’t end much better. Thankfully the saying ‘third time’s the charm’ seemed to have some truth to it, with only the first ten scrolls managing to displace themselves. It took him a moment to fish them out and put them back in their proper positions, and with that finished, Silas put them back on Jac’s side of the desk almost as though they were contaminated.
Jac still wasn’t back yet. Silas gave the door leading to the kitchen a lingering look as he briefly wondered if wasn’t too late to go after her. Err, probably. She’d been out long enough so she should be coming back at any second. No point.
His feet absently lead him towards one of the bookshelves on the side of the room. Most of the titles in them had been inherited, much like everything else in the house, so thanks to Nate for conveniently faking his own death and making Silas the sole heir. The silver title of a book on defence caught his attention. It was only a small paperback dealing exclusively with vampires, but the sight of it caused Silas to frown.
Yes. Vampires. He couldn’t seem to avoid them, but it wasn’t concern for own safety that had suddenly flared up. He still didn’t have any answers for that night Jac had been attacked in the staff hallway, and although he’d managed to forget about it since then, recently the memories had been annoying him once more. He wasn’t going to let there be a repeat of that. It was the principle of the thing. Or at least that’s what he was going to keep telling herself. Conventional protection hadn’t worked, so he was going to need to hunt something down more heavy-duty.
Unfortunately, that meant talking to Adrian Connery. Ergh. Not a correspondence he was going to look forward too with any kind of enthusiasm.
It was the sound of footsteps that made him look around, and fuck, there was that smile creeping back on his face again.
“Here,” Jac offered pleasantly.
“Thanks,” he replied, accepting the refilled tumbler before Jac made her way towards the couch.
Whatever train of thought he’d been on before Jac’s return was momentarily sidetracked. He stood around only long enough to take a generous mouthful before Jac’s furtive glances in his direction caught his attention. That was an excuse to go over if there ever was one.
“It’s going to turn into dinner if we’re not careful,” Silas pointed out, slipping onto the couch beside her and moving an arm around her shoulder. “Although, worse things could happen,” he mused, taking another drink before resting his head against the window behind them.
The spirit tasted different than usual. Not in a bad way. Nicer, actually. Something he couldn’t trace. If he didn’t know any better he’d say Jac had a knack with alcohol, although that was impossible. This wasn’t a cocktail, it wasn’t like cooking, there was no timing or ingredients involved, you just poured the stuff into a glass and ta-da, ready to serve. Yet they still did usually taste better when coming from her.
... It was probably all in his head.
“You’re not busy tonight are you?” Silas asked, lifting his head again.
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Post by Jacaranda Mulciber on Feb 16, 2010 21:43:01 GMT 1
[atrb=width,450,true][atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=cellpadding,0,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=background,http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v36/Tigeress/Random/postscripts/jac_bg.jpg,true][atrb=background,http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v36/Tigeress/Random/postscripts/jac_foot.jpg][atrb=style,background-position: bottom; background-repeat: no-repeat; padding: 2px 30px 88px 150px; text-align: justify;]She could relax a little as he took a deep drink, and seemed none the wiser. She made no secret of watching him now as he came over, and she automatically shifted so they could sit next to each other comfortably. The arm around her shoulders was a comforting touch, and the woman leaned against the side of his chest. It felt so easy and natural to fall into a habit, and the mention of dinner reminded her that she hadn’t eaten anything in a long while. She took a sip of her drink and set it away on the far end of the windowsill before returning to the warm comfort of Silas’s half-hug.
“Busy? Me? No. Just salary evaluations on eighty percent of the staff, calculating the costume and ice budgets, checking the renovation invoices for the fifth time, organising the renewal of the Firewhisky sponsorship, writing that income projection you asked for... Other than that, no, not busy at all.” She looked up, a wry smile curling her lip. The truth of the matter was that Jac liked to work, and now that Silas had stopped hounding her and actually gave her enough room to breathe, she was back to her usual productive self. Her inbox had never looked healthier.
“I don’t think we could ever be suspected of being careful, Silas, and dinner sounds good so long as you’re cooking.” Jac had many talents, but cooking was not one of them. Her eyes roamed absently, watching the play of tendons in his neck as he lifted his head away from the window. She looked to meet his eyes, and felt that familiar tug of trepidation. Could he tell? Did he suspect? Trepidation mixed with desire. What was he thinking right now? Did she have enough energy to respond if he made a move?
She shrugged the thoughts off, glad for the chance just to sit with him. It was calm, it was comforting, and certainly, there were worse things. She could think about sex later when it inevitably happened. For now, she rested her cheek against his collar with a sigh and draped her legs over his. Oh yes, there were definitely worse things.
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Post by Silas Rosier on Feb 28, 2010 12:54:53 GMT 1
Silas shifted a bit to help Jac snuggle up next to him more comfortably. Her weight was cosy, more than it should be, and Silas’s fingers started absently stroking up and down her upper arm while he looked on in a manner that might be called affectionate. Hmm, the couch was definitely spacious enough, there was probably room for—
Jac’s answer distracted him, slowly causing the movement of his hand to halt. It was, err, certainly a more in-depth response than what he’d been hoping for. Really, a simple ‘yes’ or ‘no’ would have sufficed. Silas looked politely puzzled as Jac made a quick and thorough list of everything she had left to do. It was times like this he fully realised how much work he heaped on her shoulders sometimes. But that still didn’t answer what he was really trying to get at.
There was silence for a moment while Silas blinked and replayed her answer in his head. “So... that means you’re staying?” he asked uncertainly.
Her assertion about dinner was enough to convince him that it was indeed a yes. Excellent. Right on cue the smile found its way back on his face again. Although the fact one of her legs had found its way over his certainly wasn’t hurting his mood any.
“There’s a house-elf around here... somewhere,” Silas replied, briefly looking away in the direction of the door as though one might be magically standing there. “She probably knows what’s happening already. They’re good like that.”
Mm, that leg needed attention. Silas followed Jac’s example by taking a large mouthful of the absinthe before putting the tumbler on the windowsill and smoothing his fingers over the soft cotton draped over her thigh.
... Although, now that he thought about it, the idea of playing around with a large amount of foodstuffs did have certain, err, ‘merits’. “But hey, I can still give dinner a shot,” he laughed, fixing her with a mischievous look. “So long as you’re helping.”
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Post by Jacaranda Mulciber on Mar 8, 2010 20:49:52 GMT 1
[atrb=width,450,true][atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=cellpadding,0,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=background,http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v36/Tigeress/Random/postscripts/jac_bg.jpg,true][atrb=background,http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v36/Tigeress/Random/postscripts/jac_foot.jpg][atrb=style,background-position: bottom; background-repeat: no-repeat; padding: 2px 30px 88px 150px; text-align: justify;]He was smiling. She couldn’t see his face, but she was beginning to learn how his smile felt in the subtle shift of his jaw, and the sound of it in his voice. “Yes Silas,” She said with a smile to her own voice, “I’ll stay.” It was strange; she could not recall him smiling so often before this. She had carefully researched the effects of Amortentia, and she had deduced it must be her presence that increased his mood. Did he smile when she wasn’t with him? Did he smile for other people?
She liked to think it was just for her, but then the smoggy cloud of what she was doing descended and polluted her thoughts. He only smiled because she tricked him. There was not really any love here. She could pretend all she liked, but Silas was under a spell, and there was no point in dwelling on his feelings when any toward her were manufactured by her own hand.
The whole point in this experiment had been to regain just a little respect. She was talented, and Silas seemed to ignore that fact and work her like some drone. Well she was no drone, and now she had control.
Leaning against him no longer felt so comforting, and so she sat, lightly made-up eyes opening slowly to see his smile. With his hand on her leg, and that smile turning devilish, she could let herself entertain a different warmth, One comfort that her deception could not ruin.
Sex with Silas used to be just a way to keep his attention on her, or to redirect his anger when he was in one of his moods. Now that she had his attention no matter what, and never more were his fit of rage directed at her, she could play with this power. She could say yes or no to Silas whenever she liked. Jac found her smile mirroring his, her dark eyes flashing with understanding.
“I can’t imagine you spending much time in the kitchen, Silas, are you sure you even know your way around it?” She thought of the cold marble surfaces, and thought that staying in the study with the softer furniture might make for a better evening. She shifted her leg, inviting him to explore more of it. She eased her torso a little closer, tilting her head as if to kiss him.
Before she pressed her lips to his though, the accountant pulled back with a flashing grin and she got to her feet. “Dinner, hmm? I’ll help, but cooking is not in my job description. I accept no liability for any failed experiments that may occur.” While the kitchen might be a little less comfortable than the study, there was no harm in experimenting was there?
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Post by Silas Rosier on Mar 17, 2010 14:39:24 GMT 1
. . . .Jac shuffled away again and Silas lifted his arm to release her, smile fading as he glanced over to make sure that everything was alright. It seemed to be, and the way she was eyeing him up was more than reassuring.
. . . .“I can’t imagine you spending much time in the kitchen, Silas, are you sure you even know your way around it?” Jac accused playfully.
. . . .Silas put on a look of mock-offence. “I know enough,” he replied, quickly trying to remember the last time he’d actually been forced to cook. Probably not since—Oh right, it’d been the morning-after with Seph. But even still, he hadn’t always had people waiting on him hand and foot his whole life, not to say being waited on hand and foot wasn’t vastly preferable.
. . . .“But that’s why I got you,” he added. “To stop me doing anything stupid.”
. . . .... Err, or at least anything stupid in her presence.
. . . .His train of thought was distracted when her leg slid a little down his. He didn’t need any more incentive to explore further, hand slipping beneath and teasing just under the cotton on her thigh, thumbing the warm skin in a stroking rhythm. Why couldn’t clothes just vanish when you wanted them to? Jac leant in as if to kiss him, then suddenly...
. . . .“Dinner, hmm?” she asked loudly, springing to her feet.
. . . .Silas made a disappointed noise and slouched back onto the couch, throwing her a hurt look.
. . . .“I’ll help, but cooking is not in my job description. I accept no liability for any failed experiments that may occur.”
. . . .“Tease,” he groaned, the half-smile creeping up on the side of his face. If she wanted his attention, mission accomplished: now she had it.
. . . .“I’m coming.” Silas dragged himself up off the chaise, making a point to recover both the glasses of liquor from the windowsill. He wasn’t sure if Jac had forgotten hers or left it there intentionally, but he picked it up anyway just to be sure. On the way out of the study he took a rather generous draught out of his own tumbler.
. . . .The lights were still circling from when Jac had ducked in earlier, although by the looks of it a few of them had gotten lazy and drifted off. At the sight of people walking back in they darted guiltily back into formation and branched off into groups to cover the large expanse of open plan room.
. . . .“The pantry’s up the steps on the right,” Silas said, making a vague hand gesture towards a sliding door to the side of the kitchen while he headed over, crossing down into the split-level which housed the kitchen, dining room and one of the lounge rooms. “And watch it, the house-elf has a nest in the corner of it somewhere. Never actually seen her in it though, come to think of it.” The little bastards probably liked to watch anyway.
. . . .Jac’s glass landed on the granite countertop with a dull chink. In one move Silas downed rest of his absinthe with a flourish before the tumbler was levitated into the undermount sink. A second flick of the wand and the radio on the other side of the room soon had something pleasant coming from the speakers.
. . . .“What do we feel like?” he asked, drumming his fingers on the counter as he walked over to where Jac was standing, vaguely wondering what recipes he knew – if any – that packed an interesting set of ingredients. He really needed to invest in a cookbook or something. There might be one in the study if he was lucky. No, scratch that. If he was lucky they wouldn’t even get far enough to need a cookbook.
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Post by Jacaranda Mulciber on Mar 28, 2010 21:20:58 GMT 1
[atrb=width,450,true][atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=cellpadding,0,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=background,http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v36/Tigeress/Random/postscripts/jac_bg.jpg,true][atrb=background,http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v36/Tigeress/Random/postscripts/jac_foot.jpg][atrb=style,background-position: bottom; background-repeat: no-repeat; padding: 2px 30px 88px 150px; text-align: justify;]Jac moved surprisingly smoothly across the main room, her gait usually being more of a purposeful stride than a floating walk. Having a head start on Silas, she reached the kitchen before him. She spared a glance for the pantry door as he mentioned it, and peered in a few cupboards on her way over. At the mention of the house elf nest, she paused on the step and turned to face Silas. He’d caught up, and even standing on the first step, he was an inch or so taller. It put them at a more convenient eye-level though, and Jac cracked a slight smile.
“What do we feel like?” She mirrored the question, adding some emphasis so she sounded more coy and less like a parrot. She lifted a hand and rested it on his shoulder, leaning forwards a little to fill the empty space between them. “I was going to see what you have, but I’m not keen on invading a grubby little house elf nest.” Her nose wrinkled a touch. Logic dictated that a house elf nest was probably a clean affair, but as a pureblood, Jac was hardly going to give any house elf credit. |
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Post by Silas Rosier on Mar 31, 2010 5:13:19 GMT 1
Silas matched her movement and leant close, taking in the scent of perfume and skin he knew so well from every single day these past few weeks. Her hand found its way to his shoulder and his hands were around her waist before he could think of anything else.
“Don’t worry, they’re tidy,” Silas replied, lacing his fingers behind her back, quick to try and dispel the notion that anything in his house was somehow less than perfect. The last thing he needed was mess and dirt lurking around where the food was kept.
“No, wait. It’s the laundry I’m thinking of,” he added, glancing at the roof with a measure of uncertainty. It just went to show much attention he actually paid to the little bugger. The only time he had anything directly to do with her was to relay instructions, and the arrangement seemed to suit them both fine.
Oh who gave a shit about house elves anyhow?
“Anyway,” he smiled, taking advantage that their difference in height wasn’t so great now, looking down at her and resting his forehead against hers. “I know what I feel like.”
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Post by Jacaranda Mulciber on Mar 31, 2010 7:11:40 GMT 1
[atrb=width,450,true][atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=cellpadding,0,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=background,http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v36/Tigeress/Random/postscripts/jac_bg.jpg,true][atrb=background,http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v36/Tigeress/Random/postscripts/jac_foot.jpg][atrb=style,background-position: bottom; background-repeat: no-repeat; padding: 2px 30px 88px 150px; text-align: justify;]With his arms around her waist, fingers locked at the small of her back, she was effectively trapped. At one point in the not too distant past, she would have been worried about this predicament, and the inevitability of what came next, but now she was quite content to let it happen. Since Silas was on the potion, things had been going well in that department. She could say no, flex a little control, but with him so close she could hardly resist for a few little principles.
She leaned forward on the balls of her feet, resting her hips conveniently against his. It was hard not to meet his eyes with their foreheads now touching, and the accountant inclined her head to bring their lips within touching distance. With a small smile, she gave a token struggle, writhing just a little and hardly putting enough effort into escaping to even call it an attempt. It only succeeded in grinding their fronts together.
“What do you feel like, Silas? Tell me.” Jac felt like she was wearing far too many clothes, and so was he for that matter. She flashed him a devilish little smile. “Tell me exactly what you want.”
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