Crazy Little Thing Called Love {Si} {M}

[Jacaranda Mulciber]

[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 was losing layers at an alarming rate. She only didn’t help Silas shed them because she’d slow him down. She smiled slow and languorous as he got a good eyeful of her bared chest, and she accepted his mouth back against hers with soft moans that grew in intensity and sincerity. God, the man knew how to kiss. Even without his hands exploring every curve and fold of her chest, that anticipatory warmth between her legs would grow just from his mouth on hers, especially when he did that with his tongue. To her dismay, he broke the kiss and she thought that was going to mark the end of the foreplay. Oh gods, she had never been more pleased to be wrong. His lips began trailing downward, and she tilted her head so he had better access to her neck. He knew how sensitive she could be there, and he knew just where to suck to bring the most amount of pleasure. She didn’t care if it would bruise; the jolt of gratification was worth it. His hands were moving lower still and this was usually the point where underwear disappeared and the desk’s fragility was tested. She complied eagerly when he asked (ordered) her to lift, and she braced herself against the desk and him to shift her hips so he could slip down her panties. Her skirt followed too, and so now she was completely naked before him. Before she could reach to return the favour, he was kneeling, and she took in an involuntary breath. The warmth that had been gathering turned into a churning heat, desperate for what it knew was coming next. Half-propped on the desk by her elbows, she watched with parted lips as he nuzzled against her leg, moving his way up painfully slowly to that epicentre of her heat. It was all she could do not to grab him and bring him to her, and she could barely nod through the anticipation when he asked permission. Yes. Oh god please yes. What other answer was there? Her thighs strained just a little as he pushed them apart – she was not as flexible as she used to be – and there was a moment of unbearable waiting before his mouth descended. As soon as he touched his lips to hers, her head was thrown back with a choked groan, and her spine arched, baring her breasts to the ceiling. There was no possible way she could fake the sounds she made, and just the sound of him licking and sucking between her shouts was enough to make her yell again and again. He sucked and he probed and he rubbed her until she felt ready to burst. Her groans took on a more regular, breathy pattern and her toes began to curl. She could feel that warmth like a tidal wave behind a dam, and when his tongue pushed teasingly the next time on that hard nodule of nerves, the damn broke. Her eyes were wide when the orgasm came, and he kept licking and pushing her all the way through. When she finally thought she was done, he ruthlessly pushed her into another and she jerked with the force of it. Panting, she lay back on the desk, surrendering. Impossibly there was still a throbbing urge for him deep inside her, and she reached for him with a feeble hand. He had to be inside her now. They were not finished, and she would not be fully satisfied until she felt him inside her. “I need you.” She breathed, looking down her sweat-beaded body. “Please.” As far as she was concerned, she would beg on her knees for this right now if he asked her to.

[Silas Rosier]

. . . .The ragged cry she let out was fucking glorious, and the way she shuddered and twitched under him, against him, all around him. His hair was being twisted into knots under her fingers, her thighs seizing as she rode it out. He kicked it up a notch, tongue pressing, and the aftershocks had barely started fading before her thighs stiffened again, locking around him.

. . . .The noises tearing from her throat were so loud he wouldn’t be surprised if everyone in the fucking staff section could hear, but he didn’t care – it was almost as though he wanted them to hear. There was a smile tugging at the corner of his lips when she finally quietened, shivered and went boneless beneath him. God he loved that.

. . . .His knee had gotten uncomfortable but he hadn’t even noticed. The lazy, dirty smile was still on his face when he got back to his feet, kicking his pants and trousers away where they’d fallen, shoes and socks next, gaze searching over her body.

 If he thought she sounded amazing, it was nothing compared to the sight of her: covered in a thin sheen of sweat, hair curling at her neck, mouth swollen and red from the kissing, legs spread, back arched. It was fucking criminal. He paused only another second to take in the sight then pulled his jacket off, followed by his shirt over his head, tossing them into the corner.

. . . .When he kissed her next it was like he’d never left her mouth, picking up at the same force they’d left off. His hands ran through her hair, paying attention to every detail, every contour, fingers trailing down her cheekbones. He chased into her mouth, let her take him for a moment before he pulled back, angled and sunk into her mouth, ruthless in intensity, spurred on by the raw sensation of skin on skin as he pulled her towards him. Hands on her, nothing to stop him from touching, taking everything he wanted. Hot lips, taste of his mouth, breath shared between them and his own hard, needy skin aching to be touched.

. . . .He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her body up tight against him, hooking his arms under her thighs. The faint whiff of some kind of perfume came to him. He was so close, and his hips twitched with the need to be inside her. He inched forward, just a bit, felt the wet heat of her, and felt her stiffen and hiss a breath. Jesus Christ.

. . . .God it almost fucking killed him to hold back then and there.

. . . .He moved his head slowly, cheek drifting to the side of face, lips near her ear. “Please, what?” he asked, voice going low and dangerous. He knew full well what she meant, but he needed to hear it from her first. Needed to get the words from her mouth. “You have to be more specific than that,” he whispered, and his voice was rich, almost indulgent now even as it rode on the edge of teasing.

. . . .“Now,” he nipped her earlobe lightly, “Tell me exactly what you want.”

[Jacaranda Mulciber]

[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 gave the fainted cry as his mouth left her. Part of her still shuddered from aftershocks, but there was still that niggling lack of fulfilment. She watched him as he looked her up and down, and felt no self conscious desire to stop him. She felt impossibly good just seeing his eyes roam over her like that. There was a desperate twinge as his gaze fell lower, and the fact that his clothes had all recently departed was making her squirm. She wanted to drink him all in with her eyes, but there was one part of him in particular that held her attention. “Please, Silas, please!” She pleaded, reaching for him. He came closer, but not in the way that she wanted. The kiss was frustrating, and tasting her own saltiness on his tongue only made her want him more. She hooked her legs around his hips, trying to drag him to meet her but he stayed tantalisingly out of reach. To make matters worse, his tongue in her mouth was doing a fairly good impression of what she wanted elsewhere. His hands were teasing, touching her all over except where she really needed him to. And even touching her there would not be enough anymore. She needed him in the worst and best possible way. She writhed under him, feeling the slight rasp of chest hair on her breasts. Her nipples were already tight and hard from the anticipation, and she rubbed against him purposefully to feel the additional flush of pleasure it would bring. She thought suddenly she might have won when his arms circled her waist, pulling her close to him. Her hips shifted, giving him the best possible angle to enter. She felt that warm smooth length of him against her and she stiffenedd, hissing out a breath. She was so ready for him, it was unreal. Her hips rocked against him, and she rubbed herself against him. Still raw from his oral assault, she groaned and shuddered, nails digging into his back. And then his lips started to move, and she nuzzled her cheek against his. She almost growled at what he said. Was this a joke? This was no edge of teasing; this was a full blown taunt. How could he be pressed up against her and do this to her? Her hips moved again, hoping to entice him, but he held strong. She groaned, breathless as he made his demands. The touch of his mouth and teeth so close to her sensitive neck was intoxicating, and she’d do anything for him in that moment. “Please. I want you inside me. Now. I want to feel you come right inside of me. Oh God, I’m so wet for you. Please.” She breathed, reaching between them to clasp a hand around him but infuriatingly he pulled away. Her answer wasn’t enough? The frustrated noise in the back of her throat was accompanied by the most serious of glares. Fine, she’d tell him exactly what she wanted. “Fuck me. Fuck me ‘til I’m raw. Fuck me ‘til I ache. Fuck me so hard we break the desk. Fuck me ‘til we’re both dry. Fuck me so deep I scream. Fuck. Me. Right. Now.” Silas wasn’t the only one who could make demands.

[Silas Rosier]

  And, well, holy fucking shit. How was he supposed to say no to that?

  Hell, for once there was no infuriating little comeback either. Silas didn’t need telling twice. The feel of her against him was already murdering what little resolve he had. Tension was thick in the air as he pressed up to her again. She was soaking wet, desperate as she wriggled her hips, and fuck the condom, fuck it all, because he couldn’t even remember where he put it, and who could really give a damn about safe sex at this point anyway? Halle-fucking-lujah for birth control.

  His smile easily felt against her skin as he pressed one hard kiss at the side of her neck. He angled himself, didn’t hesitate, pushed up, and holy fucking Christ mother of GOD, she opened, soft, warm, stretched taut all around him, and he couldn’t hold back the groan of pleasure that rumbled out from deep in his chest, because Jesus holy shit.

  Fire snaked up through him; sweet, consuming pressure. Instinct took over from there. The desk groaned dangerously, its strength being precariously tested as he pushed into her with long, hard strokes, whispered heated words, ran his hands up to the back of her hips, unsure of where to hold onto before settling around her thighs, doing her the favour of supporting their weight.

  Jac up upon the desk, straining against him, universe narrowing to the connection between them and his fingers tightening their grip around her legs. Just like that, desperate and needy, sparked heat underneath him, sent it spiralling all through him, delicious friction, soft curves of her against him, messy, tangled, moving.

  The way she breathed, the way she moved, the molten heat coiling and spreading out from between them, feel of her skin beneath his fingertips, smooth and taut, radiating heat, flush with blood, the muscles of her leg pulled tight underneath his fingers. The way she arched her back into the touch, cheeks flushed, eyes bright and hazy all at once, and Christ, the noises she was making were obscene.

  Jac’s hands climbed up, and he was only dimly aware of what she was doing until her rounded nails dug deep against the skin of his shoulders. They stung like nettles, scattering sparks, drawing a deep hiss.

  He bent his head into the soft curve at the back of her neck, taking the skin under his lips and sucked hard, shoving his body forward again, jolting her hard against the desk, fingers dug deep into her skin and holding her still. The only sound was Jac’s breath in his ears, hips moving and tilting up to take more of him as she made that goddamn sound again, the one that made him want to keep her right here, like this, until they were both spent.

  Either he’d done something right or Jac was out for vengeance, because without warning she suddenly clenched around him. Another deep sound escaped from Silas’s throat as a surge shot up right up along his stomach that Holy Mary mother of Christ he needed more of that.

  His chest was tight, lungs hitching, stomach convulsing, and God it was getting really fucking hard to breathe, or think, or do anything but feel Jac all over him with the increasing tempo and Jesus fucking Christ, his whole body was on fire.

  Okay, fuck.

  He let go of one her legs, licked the pad of his thumb and rubbed it down against the neglected bundle of nerves between her legs. Glided it up over her and pressed down with slow, dragging circles, thrust into her harder, and she was shaking, could feel her quivering all around him as he stopped and started with his thumb, teasing in slow lazy strokes to draw her out.

[Jacaranda Mulciber]

And there it was, that’s what she wanted. That look of hopeless abandon on his face. How could he resist? She gasped at the long hot heat of him against the wet pink folds of skin between her legs. She moved against him, rubbed herself against him, desperate for him. For a moment she thought he was going to deny her yet again. She could feel him smile, his cheek moving as he pushed a kiss against her neck.

But then he shifted, pulling away from her then coming back, pushing up and into her with one long stroke. The groan that he made was answered by a satisfied one of hers. Oh yes, she could get used to him making sounds like that. He filled her, stretching her to her limits before he began the steady push and pull. The burning frustration was suddenly dulled, and she quivered with the pleasure of it.

Every stroke was hard, and was in danger of being uncomfortable, until his hands shifted to her legs and the angle became perfect. She moved her hips with his, helping him to push at just the right angle to start building her next climax. She’d barely recovered from the last, but this was a deeper, more satisfying pleasure. She tried to grasp the desk or the things on it for stability, but she only succeeded in pushing away the papers and quills, spilling what was left of the desk’s contents onto the floor.

Her hands moved to Silas, running up his spine, grasping his shoulders, nails gently grazing his skin. Like him, she was lost in the moment. Her eyes were open, but they did not see the walls or the ceiling. All she saw was Silas, stood between her legs, bent over her torso, the rhythm of his hips bringing them together with the slap of flesh on flesh. Just the sight of him made the warmth building in her lower abdomen rise.

She watched, breathless, as he thrust into her again and again. Her back arched, and the angle returned to that impossible deepness. She was fully open for him now though, and she could take him all in. With each stroke, the top of him pushed at the very depths of her, and she groaned and gasped and had to close her eyes as her head fell back.

Her climax was building, and her fingers curled, her nails digging into his back. She was desperate for this now, and her voice was strained as she panted and groaned. Her nails on his back had prompted something, and she felt him lean his torso over hers, his mouth closing on her neck. He sucked, and the feel of his tongue on her skin made her exhale sharply before he thrust so hard into her that it was good she didn’t have the air to scream.

All she could do was breathe, oh god yes please more, breathe against his cheek and move with him.

That sound he loved was a breathless helpless moan as she felt herself beginning to crest. He pushed into her with that same hard rhythm, and every stroke brought her closer and closer to the edge. She tilted her hips, felt him rub that sweet spot inside of her. Oh god, this was it. The next stroke brought a panting gasp from her lips. He pulled back, and the next push drew a desperate groan. She couldn’t hold on much longer. The next pull back almost brought her, she couldn’t breathe, and he rubbed so wonderfully inside her. She felt like she was holding onto that ledge forever, but he kept that same rhythm, and when he thrust in again, she came with an explosion of breath and a shout of wordless ecstasy.

His tempo never faltered, and the next stroke pushed her further over the edge. She’d clenched all around him, and the friction of skin on skin just made it perfect. He groaned from the tension, and she lapped it up. A groan like that was a compliment. She was ready for the orgasm to fade, ready for him to bring himself to his own finish when she felt his hand push between them. She didn’t have time to wonder what he was doing before his saliva-slick thumb rubbed over her, and she choked on another cry.

She was so impossibly raw, the touch was almost painful. She opened her mouth to beg him to stop, she was done, she couldn’t possibly take any more but all that came out was breathless encouragement. Please yes more, don’t stop. The orgasm he’d brought her to flared back to life, and she twitched and jolted with his teasing thumb keeping her there, with no escape to blissful numbness.

He got what he wanted, her muscles had clenched around him, making every thrust a chore. The lack of latex between them made the friction that much more delicious. If she could have escaped this climax, that friction would surely have brought her again. She was past caring now. He’d brought her to her limits, and kept her there.

Jac could no longer keep a rhythm with her hips and his, instead she wreathed beneath him, begging for him to push harder, faster, rub her past rawness and into the cusp of pain. She could feel him through that torturous pleasure, hear every grunt as his own climax built. Please please please, more, keep going, don’t stop.

Finally she was released as his thumb left her in favour of grasping her hips. He pulled her tight against him, pushing and straining into her. Oh yes, this was it, this was his. Yes, please, come now. “Come with me.” And he did. His last few thrusts were punctuated with burning wet warmth as he came inside her. That feeling of his release drew a groan from her, and she rode out the last of her orgasm with him. Halle-fucking-lujah, indeed, for birth control.

[Silas Rosier]

  There wasn’t any stopping it now. Silas let go of her legs and grabbed onto her hips, pulled her closer, drove in harder, body tightening, movements more urgent. He could feel everything and oh fucking fuck, pressure creeping up that felt so fucking good.

  With one more stroke she came, crushing all around him; his victory short-lived before she moaned encouragement into his ear he was over the edge behind her, spilling in hard, almost brutal bursts. Jac shuddering and clamping against him, seeming to pull him in deeper until it was all he could do to remember to keep moving. Repeated surges were going through his muscles straight into his brain, sparking and short-circuiting everything except the feeling of her all around him, tremors and shocks of pleasure shooting through him until he was left thoroughly wrecked.

  ... Christ.

  Silas took a deep lungful of air, heart pounding like a bass drum in his chest. His forehead dropped to rest against Jac’s shoulder and the noise he gave out was more a groan than anything, but it would do. Uhg. Just... give his brain a second to catch up, would you?

  Fuck.

  The silence hung for a moment before he pulled free; slow and careful, turned his head to lay a kiss on the side of her neck again and moved to push some hair away from her cheek. And it would have been a really nice blissful moment. It really would.

  ... Except for the fact there was someone standing in the fucking doorway. Silas had just caught a glance of a large shape over Jac’s shoulder. Big, humanlike, and sure as fuck not supposed to be there.

  Abe.

  Caught by surprise, Silas straightened up like he’d just been jabbed in the back, one hand still on the desk, and the curse words pouring out of his mouth were definitely not in the style he’d just been using a moment ago.

  Oh yeah, because being allowed to enjoy the aftermath would just be too fucking much to ask, wouldn’t it?

[Abraham Grey]

January had begun with such promise; he’d been on the brink of accepting that turning 30 might not be such a disaster after all. Mostly thanks to Silas’s gift really, there was nothing like good sex to take his mind of his own impending mortality. And Merlin he’d needed the sex. How long had it been? A year... 18 months? Who did he think he was kidding acting all nonchalant about it? It had been exactly a year, six months and ten days and that was if he counted the drunken fumble with the school nurse at the staff party. But it hadn’t even been his own pathetically non-existent love life that had shattered the illusion of contentment that the good old fashion shag had given him.

No, as usual, it had been Jacaranda Mulciber. It was always Jacaranda Mulciber with her perfectly manicured nails, silky hair, killer legs and pert breasts. Breasts that he would probably never get his hands on again because she hated his guts. Of course Abe had let her get to him; he’d been moping about the castle for a good week and even deducting house points from the Gryffindors wasn’t helping to cheer him up. But he was determined not to fall into the same rut of reluctant celibacy again. It was only mid-January, he could still do something to salvage the rest of the month.

If the prostitutes Silas had so generously arranged for him could banish his birthday blues then they could most certainly banish all thoughts of Jacaranda. And that was why he was on his way to London to see Silas. It didn’t even occur to him that sleeping with them was what had made her angry at him in the first place (well, that and the unfortunate incident with Lilith, but he was really trying very hard to pretend that hadn’t happened). Besides if her opinion of him was that low then he might as well live down to it, especially if it meant spending more pleasurable time in the company of Willow.

Scores was bustling with people and for once Abe didn’t stop to eye up the dancers appreciatively as he made his way to the staff only area of the club. Even having resolved to do something about his moping had put him in a markedly improved mood and he didn’t really need to get a fleeting glimpse of flesh when he’d hopefully be up close and personal with the real thing soon. A quick stop off at the bar to buy the illustrious club-owner (and himself, of course) a drink, after all they were both men that appreciated their alcohol, and he was soon on his way, with the two tumblers of whiskey floating steadily before him.

Nobody tried to stop him as strolled into the back of the club, one of the perks of being a personal friend of the owner, and he wasted no time heading to Silas’s office. Abe didn’t bother to knock as he knew well enough that Silas never left his door open if he didn’t want to be disturbed, hell the thing didn’t even have a handle and could be locked up tighter than a Gringott’s vault so if it was open he was going to take that as an invitation to just walk right in.

The glasses he’d been so carefully levitating took an impressive nosedive for the floor, his concentration kicking in just in time to halt their progress before they shattered and he sloshed a fair amount of the contents of the two tumblers onto the floorboards as he charmed them unsteadily back to shoulder height. His jaw, however, which had dropped around the same time as the drinks, was not so easily salvaged and Abe was left staring open-mouthed at the scene before him.

If there was ever a reason to remember to knock, this was it.

Papers were strewn on the floor, surrounding the desk in a messy oval and punctuated by the occasional quill, fountain pen and a cracked ink bottle that was steadily leaking ink onto what looked like a rather important document. But Abe was only scrutinising the floor so closely to avoid looking at what had disturbed all those items in the first place: A very naked Jacaranda and a very naked Silas. Mid-coitus.

Abe made a half strangled noise in the back of his throat; at least he hoped that noise had come from him. He didn’t want to think what might have caused that noise if it had originated from either of the two on the desk. Sweet Merlin he was going to have nightmares. He could see Silas’s penis! And it was thrusting... arrogantly. Abe would have bet money that Silas had named it. Lance. Lancelot. Sir Lancelot. What a bastard.

He had to get out of there. Leave before either of them noticed he was there and maybe attempt some kind of obliviate charm on himself because that was the only way he was going to be able to forget everything he’d seen and look either of them in the eye again. But he was frozen, rooted to the spot with his mouth still half open in surprise. He couldn’t even bring himself to speak, clear his throat, make any sound to get their attention so he didn’t look like some weird voyeur. Because if Jacaranda had hated him before he was never going to get her forgiveness now.

[Jacaranda Mulciber]

[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;]And then it was over, and the bliss faded to an all-over warmth that all but numbed her completely. She finally found the space to breathe, and she took deep steady breaths to calm her heart which matched Silas’ for speed. She could feel his beating against her though his chest. In the near silence, it was easy to feel as if they were the only people in the world. She turned her head towards him, resting her cheek against his. The hardness of the desk didn’t matter. Neither did the fact she could barely feel her legs, or the weight of him draped over her. She could still feel his hand, resting on her pelvic bone, forgotten. She could still feel him, warm and slick inside her. It was bliss; she wished it could last forever. The planet however was still rudely rotating, and time stood still for no man (or woman). Silas was the first to move, pulling out gently but otherwise staying close. Jac made a discomforted noise, but was soon quieted by the feel of his lips on her neck, and the brush of fingers on her cheek. She opened her eyes, slow and languid to look at him when his hand stilled on her face. She frowned and followed his line of sight to doorway after she saw his attention was no longer on her. What she saw had her cursing loudly along with Silas, and she scrambled to sit up. One arm supported her, her elbow braced on the desk, while her inclined torso paralleled Silas’. Her other arm dropped from Silas’ waist and she used her forearm to cover what modesty she could over her chest. With her back to the door, her clothes strewn all over the floor and her wand nowhere in sight, Jac could only shelter under her lover in the vain hope that the combination of half-sitting up and Silas’ closeness hid the rest of her. After the initial surprise, the red haze of fury at her embarrassment rushed in and she glared fiercely over her shoulder. “Abraham!” She fairly screeched. What was he doing, just standing there? Enjoying the show, was he? She needed her wand. She needed to Hex him into oblivion. Fuck, no, she was going to kill him. Slowly and painfully. Luckily for Abraham, she could not retrieve her wand without getting up, and she could not get up without giving him another good show. She had never been so enraged (or embarrassed) in her life. And it had to be Abraham to stumble in. Any other person and she could easily live it down. But no, not Abraham. How much had he seen? How long had he been standing there, gawping? He better have enjoyed it, because this was the last time she wanted to see Abraham Grey ever in her life.

[Silas Rosier]

  What the fuck?

  No, really.

  What in the HELL was Abe doing there?

  Silas’s thoughts were heading in the same direction as Jac’s. ...Wand. He needed a—where the fuck was his wand?

  Mother of fuck. Hell, if it had been anyone else spotting him Silas wouldn’t have given a shit. This wasn’t the first compromising position he’d been caught in and ‘modesty’ never featured in his vocabulary. But it wasn’t the fact he’d been caught that was bothering him, rather that it was with Jac, by Abe of all fucking people, and—Argh! It couldn’t have been any other woman couldn’t it? Of-fucking-course not. The man was dead. Oh so fucking dead.

  Right. He could make a safe guess where his wand was. Before Silas could make a furious grab for his trousers – ideally to turn Abe into something resembling a bomb blast victim – Jac swore loudly and scrambled up against him in an attempt to shield herself from view.

  He wasn’t quite sure what possessed him after that. Not that he really had much time to stop and think about it. A sudden instinct to look after the woman sheltering beneath him cracked through out of nowhere and Silas stayed put. Rather than go with his first impulse to blow Abe to pieces he found himself reacting to her distress, slipping a hand around her waist, protectively – or possessively, your choice – pulling her closer with no particular self-consciousness for himself.

  And fucking bastard that was still standing there like a petrified trout.

  Silas’s other hand moved from the desk to grasp Jac’s arm and if humans could growl like wolves it was a fair bet he would be doing that there and then. When he next spoke it was low and dangerous, snarling Abe’s name in a manner that still somehow managed to sound like a threat. Considering they’d just been caught in one of the least threatening situations known to man, that was quite something.

  “GET,” he roared, punctuating each next word, “THE. FUCK. OUT!”

[Abraham Grey]

Fuck! FUCK! Shit, wank, bollocks. All of the above. Fucking fuck! It took Abe several seconds to realise that the stream of profanity running through his head was in fact being spoken aloud too. That not only had Silas and Jacaranda finally spotted his rather out of place presence in the room, but that they’d also become quite adept at mind reading because the colourful procession of curse words coming from the two of them matched his sentiments exactly. In fact he was fairly sure Jacaranda had used a few combinations he’d never heard before, which only made Abe flinch a half-step away from the naked couple. If she was being forced to invent words to express her anger then she was truly and utterly pissed.

He’d never considered it would be possible to see a naked Jacaranda and recoil in horror, but the world was full of nasty little surprises for him and it seemed that his mind was getting in on the act as it chose the moment that Silas snarled his desire for Abe to ‘leave’ to remind him of the sickening crunch of Adrian’s fingers snapping horribly out of place. Abe might consider Silas a friend, but there were limits to male camaraderie and those limits fell a long way short of ever, ever seeing the face a friend made when he was balls deep in a woman. ”Yes!” Abe said, clutching desperately at the shining opportunity to escape and absolutely resisting the suicidal urge to allow his gaze to stray any lower than shoulder height. ”Good plan, excellent one in fact.”

For a moment he hesitated, eyes flicking to the two hovering tumblers of expensive whiskey. Even in the most dire of straits Abe couldn’t quite leave himself to abandon a good quality drink. He reached out and plucked the two glasses from the air then took in the glares coming from Jacaranda and Silas. In the back of his mind the strangled cry that Adrian had made as each of his fingers had broken played out in horrifying clarity, reminding him yet again why it might be a good idea not to delay his exit any further. If he stayed much longer he likely wouldn’t live to hold another tumbler. ”I’ll, uhh, just leave these here.” He said, glancing round to find a cabinet near the door that he could place the drinks on.

”I expect you need a stiff drink after...” Abe’s face contorted into a grimace at the word ‘stiff’ and only got worse from there. He made a gesture that was a half shrug and half raising his hands in surrender as he edged towards the door. Every instinct was screaming to turn tail and run, pack as fast as he could and maybe leave the country. He’d heard Russia was good this time of year (or at least nicer than the frosty atmosphere in Silas’s office) and Durmstrang were always looking to poach teachers from Hogwarts. He had one foot out the door. He was almost home and dry.

Except...

Abe could have kicked himself. The sensible part of himself, the part that had an actual sense of self preservation; the part that had taught him to try and be as invisible as possible when his mother was in one of her moods and to always check his desk for dungbombs after he’d had a class with any Gryffindors, still wanted to skedaddle. But the part of him that went kind of doughy-eyed whenever he saw Jacaranda, really, really didn’t want her to hate him and thought Silas wasn’t a bad old chap was winning. He owed them an explanation; he couldn’t just leave and let them think he was some kind of weird pervert. At least not the kind of weird pervert who wanted to watch the two of them having sex.

”For the record I wasn’t looking!” He blurted, halting his retreat in defiance of the hate-filled looks the pair were giving him and emboldened by the fact that neither of the two of them were holding a wand. Nor were they wearing any clothing in which they could conceal one. ”I mean of course I saw...” Abe vaguely waved his hands in the universal gesture for two people who were, well... together. ”But I didn’t mean to! And in my defence the door wasn’t locked. How was I supposed to know that you two would be...” Again he trailed off, seemingly unable to say the word sex when it related to the immediate actions of the two people before him. Instead he resorted to substituting a verbal description for yet more hand waving. It probably wasn’t enough, but really what could you say in that situation? He still had to try.