A/N: The lemon is back, as promised! Pretty long, too - both the lemon and the chapter.

Also featured is Blaise's meeting with HR.

Warning, Blastoria, warning, angry sex, warning.

On Hermione's first night in Draco's house, they slept together. Just slept.

They talked quietly into the night, Hermione fitting perfectly against Draco's side, his arm around her body; her arm resting on his chest.

The last thing they discussed was the prosaic subject of transport. Hermione needed to go to the airline's Head Office tomorrow, but Draco was on leave. He valiantly offered her the Porsche, but she could tell he was still recovering from loaning it to Blaise. She said she'd be happy with the four-wheel drive, assuming she could climb into it unaided. Which, for shorties, wasn't guaranteed.

In the end, Draco said he'd drive her in and do some paperwork while she had the meeting. He insisted, when she lifted up her head to tell him how stupid that was.

She kissed him instead.

Hermione hit a small snag when she got dressed the next morning. Having not expected to be 'working,' she only packed casual clothes. After a ponder, she chose some white linen capri pants and a loose forest-green collared shirt that she belted over the top. Some natural leather high-heeled open-toed sandals sorted out the feet.

Draco's eyebrows lifted over his coffee cup when she walked into the kitchen. 'You look lovely,' he smiled, handing her a just-poured cup and kissing her.

'Thanks,' she said, a little nervously. 'It's a far cry from my normal work clothing, though.'

'He peered into her eyes. 'You okay?' he asked. 'You seem nervous.'

She pulled a face. 'I am, a little,' she confessed. 'You never know how these turn out. And Blaise is a close friend of yours. He's so worried about the outcome.'

He hugged her with one arm. 'He's already in a much better space because of you,' he said. 'The HR Manager seems a pretty decent bloke. I never had much faith in the HR Department before, but I think it wouldn't be unreasonable for Blaise to have some hope.'

He clinked his coffee cup with hers. 'To hope.'

She smiled. 'To hope.'

The he grinned. 'And to us getting back home so we can have some fun!'

Hermione laughed and rolled her eyes. 'Sex is never far from your mind, is it?'

'Nope.' He winked.

'How often do you think about sex when you're flying a plane?'

'You don't want to know the answer.'

When Hermione entered the airline's Reception, she noted that a neatly-uniformed Blaise was already present, standing near a window. He was staring at his phone and looking thunderous.

She stepped up to the desk. 'Good morning,' she said briskly to one of the two middle-aged women behind the reception desk whose make-up seemed rather young for her face. 'I'm Ms Granger. I have an appointment with Mr Potter.'

'Certainly, Ms Granger,' the receptionist said politely, peering into her computer. 'Oh!' she said, seemingly surprised. 'He already has a meeting booked.'

'Would that be with First Officer Zabini?'

'Um…' the receptionist looked evasive.

'I'm representing Mr Zabini. Please let Mr Potter know we're both here.'

She pasted on a confident smile as she approached Blaise. 'You look like you're about to murder someone,' she whispered.

He glared at the receptionists, who were both busy ignoring him. 'It's already started,' he muttered. 'Those two dragons are treating me like a bloody criminal.'

Hermione looked over her shoulder. She caught one of the receptionists scowling in their direction. At Hermione's pointed look, she suddenly found her fingernails rather interesting.

She took Blaise's hand and squeezed it. 'Fuck their wrinkly arses,' she whispered.

He cracked a grin.

'That's better,' she said. 'Now you look less like a serial killer and more like a reasonable employee. Do you need your hat and jacket?'

Blaise was confused. 'Uh, no?'

'Good.' She held out her hand. 'Hand them over.'

Mystified, he did as ordered.

Draping his jacket over her arm and holding his hat, she marched up to the reception desk. 'Could you hang these up for us, please?' she smiled. 'It's far too hot to wear them, don't you think?'

The receptionist gaped at Hermione while she draped the clothes over the desk.

'And we'd like two coffees, please,' she added sweetly. 'Black, no sugar. Thank you.'

Blaise boggled as she walked back to him. 'Come and sit with me,' she invited, choosing a sofa that was some distance from the reception desk and the other visitors.

'What…?'

'We're just asserting the fact that you deserve to be treated the same way as the other visitors in this area,' she whispered, glancing at two businessmen, sipping coffee in their shirtsleeves while they looked with interest at her and Blaise.

True enough, one of the receptionists tottered towards them, carrying two coffees on a tray. She placed them on the coffee table and addressed Hermione. 'Is there anything else I can help you with, Ms Granger?' she asked.

'Not for the moment,' Hermione smiled. 'Thank you.'

As the receptionist headed back to the desk, Hermione put a hand on Blaise's arm. 'Don't drink the coffee,' she murmured.

He raised an eyebrow. 'Why?'

'Firstly, she's probably spat in them. Secondly, the point of the coffee was to get her off her arse and inconvenience herself, not for us to drink them.'

Blaise looked at her with awe. Wow. What a woman, he marvelled.

Mr Potter ('call me Harry, please,') met them personally at Reception and took them to his office. As Hermione passed his desk, she saw an adorable photo of a chubby little baby with his dimply arms raised in the air and a huge gummy grin on his face.

She paused by it. 'Do I detect a family resemblance?' she smiled.

Harry looked at it fondly. 'Our first,' he admitted. 'Do you have any?'

'Uh, no,' she blushed. 'Not yet.'

Why did I say that? she wondered.

At the smallish table in his office, all three sat down. 'Uh, we need to wait for one other party to arrive,' Harry said, almost apologetically. 'One of the airline's solicitors.'

Blaise swallowed, and Hermione briefly clasped his hand under the table.

'So, where are you from, Ms Granger?' Harry asked.

'Please call me Hermione.' She fished out a stray business card from her handbag and chatted about the firm where she worked in Vancouver, and what area of law she specialised in.

Harry's door burst open, and an absolutely huge slug of a man slithered in. Dressed in a shiny grey suit with a black tie, the grey-skinned man with a chest that seemed to slide into his gut heaved his considerable weight to the table. Harry stood up and moved along a seat, since it wasn't likely that this blob would be capable of getting around him.

He made a performance of digging out folders, pads, legislation, pens and a Dictaphone and dumping them on the table. Once he had his mess sorted to his satisfaction, he looked up, almost surprised to see other people sitting at the table, watching him.

'Oh. You're all here,' he grunted. 'Well. Good.'

Blaise and Hermione surreptitiously glanced at each other.

'Talbot,' the newcomer spat. 'Wilhelm Talbot. I represent this airline's legal affairs.' He squinted at Blaise. 'You must be Zabini,' he said, looking down his nose at him. The he turned his glare to Hermione. 'Who are you?'

'Hermione Granger, First Officer Zabini's representative,' she said coolly, lightly emphasising Blaise's title. Normally she would have held out a hand to shake, but she didn't want to touch any part of that, um, man.

'Are you with the pilot's union?' he barked.

'No, sir,' she replied.

Talbot glared at Blaise. 'Why aren't you represented by the pilot's union?'

Blaise glared right back. 'Cos I don't like 'em,' he said in his grittiest east London accent.

'Well, that's unacceptable,' Talbot sniffed. 'Pilots are to be represented by their union in cases like this.' He started packing his crap back into his sorry-looking briefcase. 'Call me when the correct representation is sorted out, will you, Potter?'

Harry opened his mouth, but Hermione jumped at the opportunity to manage this little – er, large - toad.

'Can you point me to the legislation or clause in the airline's employment contracts or employee handbook that states that pilots must be represented by the pilot's union, please?' she asked.

He looked up, surprised. 'That's how it's always been done,' he sniffed.

'Indeed,' smiled Hermione. 'The legislation or governing employment documents, please?'

He narrowed his eyes at her. 'It is custom, rather than law.'

'Custom,' Hermione repeated, and turned to Harry. 'Harry, are you okay with some customs being updated every now and again?'

He smiled. 'Of course.'

'In that case,' Hermione said briskly, 'shall we start? I have a ride waiting in an hour's time.'

As far as this sort of meeting went, it was…

Well.

Harry was very reasonable, as Draco said. The Slug, on the other hand, was a misogynistic twat. When Blaise put his side of the story forward, he jumped in with 'questions.'

'Have you slept with cabin crew before, Mr Zabini?'

Blaise looked at Hermione before replying 'My relationships are personal affairs, Mr Talbot.'

'Well?' Talbot spat. 'Have you?'

'Can you explain to my client what the relevance of your question is to the investigation, please?' Hermione asked.

He narrowed his eyes at her. 'To determine if he has a habit of molesting young women!' he thundered.

On a punt, Hermione said sympathetically 'I take it you've met the young lady in question.'

'Indeed I have!' Talbot said indignantly. 'A most convincing, er, girl.'

Translation: he was mesmerised by her tits and she played him like a fish on a line.

'Ah,' Hermione said. 'In the interests of ensuring a fair investigation is being conducted, I take it you can confirm that she was also asked if she's slept with fellow employees before?'

Talbot glared at her, but she sat still, waiting politely for his response.

'I withdraw the question,' he spat.

Under the table, Blaise grasped her hand in gratitude.

And on it went. Accusation, deflection. Accusation, deflection. Blaise did well, exceptionally well when Harry posed the questions. When it came to fielding Talbot's jibes, the toe of Hermione's sandal was practically embedded in Blaise's ankle for the number of times she had to silently remind him to keep a lid on his temper.

Eventually, Harry and the Slug got all the useful information they could from Blaise. Now it came down to determining next steps.

Harry opened the gambit. 'These sorts of investigations are rather difficult,' he started. 'No matter how much we try to prevent these things, word just seems to spread.'

'I am aware,' Blaise replied neutrally.

Talbot barged in. 'The airline thinks it would be best if you take some leave while this investigation continues.'

'Leave,' repeated Blaise.

'What sort of leave?' asked Hermione.

Talbot blustered 'His annual leave, of' -

'Discretionary leave,' Harry said firmly. 'Paid, no fixed end, no impact on his annual leave balance.'

'What sort of message is that likely to send to the rest of the staff?' Hermione asked.

'We can't be responsible for staff gossip, young lady,' Talbot snapped.

God, what a flaccid prick you are, Hermione thought.

'Has Ms Greengrass also been placed on this 'discretionary leave?' she asked instead.

The Slug and Harry exchanged looks.

'No,' said Harry, when it became apparent that Sluggy wasn't going to answer.

'Oh!' said Hermione. 'Annual leave, then?'

'She's on ground duties,' Harry said before the Slug could interject.

Hermione frowned. 'I have to say I'm rather concerned about the bias the airline appears to be showing towards Ms Greengrass.'

'What utter nonsense!' Talbot filibustered, but Harry shut him down.

'What do you recommend?' he asked.

She had a quick word with Blaise, and responded 'He'd like to complete his training towards his Captain's qualifications. He's happy to study at an alternative location, if that suits.'

Harry didn't bother looking at Talbot before he said 'I'm sure we can arrange something suitable.'

Blaise nodded curtly. 'Thank you.'

The meeting was over. Harry and the pestilent Talbot would consider the information they'd received and contact him with the outcome of their investigation.

The Slug may have been the last to arrive, but he was the first to leave. Harry's office seemed a little bigger without him.

'So, Hermione, what are your plans?' Harry asked as they were packing up. 'Are you going to be moving here?'

'Oh,' she blushed. 'It's an option I'm considering.'

Harry nodded, then he leant towards her. 'Mr Talbot is going to be retiring soon,' he said confidentially. 'If you sit the Qualified Lawyers Transfer Test, you can practice law in this country… and maybe consider opportunities with this airline?'

She smiled. 'I'll certainly think about it.'

'Good.' He shook her hand and smiled. 'It was a pleasure meeting you.'

It was Blaise's rostered day off. Unfortunately Draco and Hermione came in the Porsche, so while Hermione would have loved to have offered Blaise a ride home, they couldn't.

'Hey, don't you worry about me,' he said, bringing an arm around Hermione and hugging her. 'Mate,' he said to Draco, 'you should have seen her in action.' He waved his hand in front of his face. 'Smoking hot.'

Draco smiled at her. 'I can imagine.'

'I think Harry's a reasonable bloke,' Hermione told Blaise. 'Granted, Talbot is a prick of the first water, but if he's pegged for retirement, he won't have the clout that he thinks he has. Harry has the final say. I can't promise a positive result, but I think we can be confident that sanity should prevail.'

Draco and Blaise exchanged looks over her curly head. If it did, it would be a first for Human Resources.

'Will you be all right?' Draco asked Blaise.

He bared his teeth. 'Me? Box of fluffies, mate.'

'Okay, well, keep in touch, eh? Let us know what happens.'

Blaise nodded. 'Will do, of course.' Keeping an eye on Draco, he approached Hermione and kissed her on the cheek. 'You were awesome. You're my own personal superhero.'

She laughed. 'We haven't won yet! But I'm pretty sure we will.' She smiled up at him.

They said goodbye, and went their separate ways.

Blaise told a pork pie. He wasn't exactly okay.

He was mad as hell.

He was incredibly grateful to Hermione for steering him through the meeting. That fat bastard instantly got under his skin, and he knew that if she wasn't there, he would have lost his shit completely within the first five minutes. Then he would have kissed his job goodbye, no matter what he had or hadn't done.

On the train home, he pulled his hat over his eyes, jammed his earbuds into his ears and gave off an almost palpable vibe that clearly stated that he wanted to be left the fuck alone.

But once inside his flat, there was little to distract him. He felt revolting from having to breathe the same air as that fat lump of a lawyer, so he turned the shower on and stripped himself of his uniform.

He let the warm water pound the top of his head and sluice over his body. Staring at the water pooling around his feet, his mind meandered from his frustration at the meeting to why he was there in the first place.

Astoria fucking Greengrass.

His vision went red, and he punched the shower tiles, yelling out his frustration when the pain coursed through his fist.

He wrenched the tap off and stormed into his bedroom. Once clothed, he grabbed his keys and motorbike helmet, slamming his front door shut as he left.

It was Astoria's rostered day off too, but – unusually - she wasn't out and about. She was getting tired of the surreptitious looks from colleagues at work, and didn't want to hang out with them on her day off. Female cabin crew usually got transferred to ground duties when they became pregnant, but everyone knew what her excuse was. Some were sympathetic. Others were disbelieving. She was sick of the lot of them.

Her flatmate was on a stopover in New York, the lucky cow, so it was just her rattling around their flat. Out of boredom, she decided to give the place a thorough clean. Listlessly, she pulled on a pair of faded pink cut-off shorts that she wouldn't be caught dead outside in, and a grey ribbed singlet. She yanked her mass of hair into a messy topknot, and turned on some music. Not too loud; the cranky old bitch upstairs was forever threatening to call the Council noise nannies about their 'ridiculous caterwauling.'

She amassed her cleaning materials, shoved them into a bucket, and traipsed to the kitchen.

An hour later, Astoria was in the bathroom with her head in the below-sink cupboard, when she heard a pounding at the door.

She ripped off her rubber gloves in frustration. How can that bloody neighbour be complaining about the music? She herself could barely hear it herself from the bathroom.

She stood up, fuming. That cow is going to get a piece of my mind, she grizzled as she stomped to the front door.

She wrenched it open, but the rude words she planned to throw at the old bat died on her lips.

It was Blaise, dressed in bike leathers, holding his helmet and looking incredibly angry.

He stepped inside the flat, causing Astoria to stumble back in surprise. Once clear of the door, he slammed it shut, making her jump. He put his helmet down and undid his jacket, wrenching it over his strong shoulders as he advanced towards her. 'I want to know why, Astoria,' he snarled. 'Why the fuck did you make that shit up about me sexually assaulting you?'

He had her right up against the hallway wall; he towered over, dark and menacing. He threw his jacket over his helmet and slammed each hand on either side of her. 'Why?' he yelled, practically in her face.

Her heart was pounding and her throat was dry. Simply put, she was terrified. 'I -I -I' – she gulped, tears of fright burning her eyes. She tried once more to talk, but her tongue wouldn't obey her.

'Speak up!' Blaise roared, grabbing her jaw and lifting her so that her bare big toes just skimmed the ground.

She clutched his arm with both hands, trying to claw his grip free. 'I'm sorry, all right?' she screamed back through gritted teeth, regardless of the pressure Blaise had on her face. 'I'm sorry I said it!'

Her tears blurred her vision and she couldn't see the look on his face. But he suddenly let go of her jaw. She lost her footing and slid down the wall, falling to the ground at his feet.

'Get up,' he spat.

'Get the fuck out of my house!'

He grabbed both her wrists and hauled her up. Up close to his face, she could almost feel his rage pulse from his body. But before she could say a word, he spun her around and shoved her down the hallway. 'Go,' he ordered.

He'd been here before when she and her flatmate had a party. He knew where the bedrooms were. In fact, her flatmate confessed to giving Blaise a blow-job in Astoria's room because some inconsiderate arsehole was fucking someone in her room.

She was tempted to tell him to fuck himself, but she was dealing with an unknown situation. She only knew Blaise as a high-spirited, good-natured bloke, cute and sexy and harmless. This Blaise was psychotic. Baiting him didn't seem wise.

True enough, another shove from Blaise had her stumbling into her bedroom and falling onto the bed. She leapt off the other side, putting the bed between them. 'W-what are you going to do?' she asked as bravely as she could.

He quietly closed the bedroom door and stood next to the bed, glaring at her. His chest heaved up and down from the force of his rage.

For a split second, Astoria remembered the sight of his nude body from their stopover. And the way it felt against her. She mentally slapped herself. Not the right time, Greengrass.

When Blaise next spoke, his voice was dangerously low. She found it even scarier than his yelling. ''You're sorry,' you say?' he asked. 'Well, it's a bit too little, too fucking late!' he spat. 'Everyone at work's treating me like I committed some sort of fucking crime! They look at the black man and think 'No surprises there. Look at poor, delicate, white Astoria Greengrass. He must have done it. There's no way she would have let him fuck her.'

Astoria's shaking hands covered her mouth. 'That's… horrible!' she gasped. 'Who the hell would think so poorly of you?'

Blaise began to pace. 'It only takes one, little Tori,' he sneered. 'Next thing you know – boom! Everyone looks at you like they want to spit on you.'

Something heavy and black coiled in Astoria's stomach. 'Jesus. I'm so sorry.'

He moved so fast, she didn't even see him. Next thing she knew, she was on the bed, Blaise leaning over her but still standing on the ground. 'You told me that, you irresponsible little bitch,' he spat. 'What I want to know is why?'

She remembered how angry she felt back in Vancouver when he walked out of her room. They'd slept together, and he just completely blanked her! Pretended it never happened! Well, it did happen. She remembered it very, very well. She'd thought about it a lot, truth be told.

He was, quite simply, amazing.

She inhaled a shuddering breath, edging slightly to the other end of the bed. 'I was angry that you pretended we hadn't had sex earlier,' she said in a small voice.

Blaise stood up and strode to the other side of the room, clutching his hair and swearing. He spun around, half-enraged, half-despairing. 'For the last, fucking time, Tori,' he gritted, 'we never had sex. Never! Do you hear me?'

Offended, she knelt on the bed and walked on her knees to the edge. 'I'm telling you we did!' she said hotly. 'I can remember almost every single thing we did!'

Blaise boggled at her. 'You're crazy!'

She glared back. 'You're a deserting liar!'

His mouth opened, but no words came out. He flung himself into her corner chair and started unlacing one of his boots. He hauled it off and hurled it at the door, shortly followed by the other one.

Astoria stared at the flying boots. 'What the hell are you doing?' she demanded.

Blaise stood up and advanced towards her, pulling his t-shirt over his body. Dropping it to the floor, he said evenly 'You say I fucked you. I say I didn't. If I'm going to lose my job, my dear Tori, then it had better be worth my while.'

He stood at the end of the bed, towering over her. Her eyes travelled up his beautiful body to his scowling face. The black, coiling thing in her stomach dissolved into something that made her clitoris tingle, even as her heart pounded and her throat ran dry.

She met his glare.

Then he bent down, placed his hands on either side of her face, and kissed her. Hard.

Blaise's blood was boiling inside him. Half his body was in a white-hot rage, and the other half was yelling at him to stop what he was doing before he took things too far.

The boiling blood took over, and he pressed his tongue into Astoria's mouth, sending an internal snarl of triumph to his conscience when her mouth opened and accepted his touch. Her hands were lightly balanced on his torso, her fingers brushing against his abdominal muscles. This light touch alone sent raw need straight to his cock.

He pulled away from her and pushed her down to the bed. With wide eyes, she scooted back and watched while he undid and removed the belt to his black Kevlar jeans. He looked consideringly at the belt. Astoria drew in her breath. Is he going to use it on me? she panicked. Oh my fucking God…

His eyes snapped to hers. 'Take off your clothes,' he ordered. 'Don't look away from me.'

He dropped the belt while Astoria pulled her singlet over her head, and he unzipped his jeans while she wriggled out of her shorts. Blaise looked leisurely at her long, pale legs while he pulled his jeans down and stepped out of them. Her gaze skittered to his groin.

'Eyes up!' he snapped. She jumped; and did so.

Blaise's long, slender fingers brushed over his erection as Astoria undid her bra and pulled it off. Her large breasts bounced free. He pretended not to be affected by her beautiful, curvy body. It was utter perfection. Shame about the nutcase head.

He pointed a finger to her panties, then worked his underwear down his hips, letting them fall to the floor.

Astoria was tossing her panties over the side of the bed when he looked back up. She saw run his eyes slowly down her body and couldn't miss his reaction: he was stroking his long, thick cock almost absent-mindedly.

'Bring back any memories?' she snapped.

'Only bad ones.'

She opened to mouth to yell an obscenity at him, when in the blink of an eye, he was over her. 'Did you think I'd use my belt on you?' He smiled coldly.

'I wouldn't put it past you.'

His smile became a grin, but it wasn't a nice one. 'I don't use belts,' he murmured. 'Except when the girl begs me to.'

He kissed her forcefully, then pulled slightly away. 'Are you gonna beg me, Tori?'

'Fuck you!' she spat.

He smiled and cocked his head to one side. 'Oh, Tori, Tori,' he sighed.

He slammed his cock hard into her soaking wet cunt.

It was a fight. They both wanted it. But they both wanted to win.

They fucked each other long into the day, each taking what they wanted; no asking. Sweat slicked their bodies as the room warmed in the summer sun, trickling slowly down their backs and chests and dampening their hair.

Once he'd sheathed himself inside the hot, tight, wet deliciousness of her pussy he withdrew completely, smiling at her yelp of rage at the loss. He spread her long legs apart and buried his face in between them, sucking at her labia and clit while spearing his tongue hard into her core. She gripped his head and pushed him closer, demanding impossibly more.

Lifting his head and gasping for breath, he stabbed two long fingers into her channel and explored it until he came across that elusive little patch of nerves. He rammed his fingers into her pussy with lightning speed, pressing up against her g-spot and causing her to writhe on his fingers wildly.

'God yes, Blaise, don't stop don't fucking stop I'm gonna' –

He withdrew his fingers and stood up.

'What the fuck?' Astoria shrieked in a rage, sitting up. 'Where the hell do you think you're going?'

Blaise strolled leisurely to the chair where he'd removed his boots and plonked himself in it. He stroked his cock lazily and crooked a finger at her. 'Get over here.'

Seething, she leapt off the bed and stomped over to the chair. 'What the hell is your game?' she snarled.

He took a handful of her now-loose hair and brought her head sharply down to meet his. 'Kneel on the floor and lick my face clean of your juices,' he said.

She glared at him and tried to pull away, but his fist was still in her hair. With bad grace, she slumped to the floor and leaned over to reach his face. She dragged her tongue along his jaw and chin, licking and sucking at her own body's scent. She traced the top of his lip, cheeks and nose, licking him completely dry – except for his lips.

Raising a sardonic eyebrow, she leaned back.

'You haven't finished,' he said.

She gave him the finger.

His hand shot out and wrapped around her wrist. Dragging her forward, he wrapped his other hand around the back of her head and slammed his lips on hers, tasting every part of her mouth, tongue and teeth with his tongue.

He pulled away, satisfied. 'Now you're finished.' Not waiting for her reaction, he ordered 'Sit on my cock.'

Oh, how she wished she could walk away. But the feel of his cock inside her was unbelievable. She climbed onto his lap, straddled her knees on either side of his thighs, and sank down onto Blaise's considerable erection. When he was fully inside her, she moved her hips back and forth shallowly, getting just the movement she needed from him.

Just as she was really getting into it, he stopped her. 'What now?' she sighed.

He took her wrists. 'Bring your legs out from under you and lean back.'

'Back?'

'Back.'

With a little difficultly she brought her feet around so they were near his waist. Stiffly, she leaned back.

'More.'

She tried again.

'I said more.'

She sighed in frustration. 'I'll fall!'

'My legs are right behind you. I'm holding your wrists. You won't fall.'

'Yeah, like I can trust you.'

A dangerous light crept into his eyes. 'Don't tempt me.'

She swallowed, and leaned backwards so the back of her head rested against his shins. Blaise raised himself further up on the chair and said 'I'm gonna hold your waist, one hand at a time.' Quickly, he let go of one wrist and gripped her waist, followed by the other. She used her free arms to brace herself on the floor, like doing a backwards handstand.

Blaise began to move in her. Light, shallow thrusts, right up against her –

'Oh my God!' she moaned, entranced.

Blaise controlled the rhythm, and when Astoria's moans indicated that she was building up to an orgasm, he applied his thumb to her clitoris. Her entire body convulsed, and she wailed, begging for more.

He fucked her and played with her clit, listening for the approach of her orgasm… then, just as it was near - he pulled her upright.

'No!' she screamed, incensed, and hit his shoulders. 'You – you cunt-blocking bastard!'

Ignoring her, he threw her over his shoulder and returned her to the bed, dumping her in the middle of it. Judging which side of the bed she slept on, he pulled open the drawer to her bedside table and dumped the contents onto the bed.

Astoria was agape. 'Get the hell out of my private things!' she shouted. 'Who the fuck do you think you are?'

He held up an index finger and fished through her stuff, quickly isolating what he was looking for. He tossed her a tube of lubricant and a butt plug, then swept the rest of the things back into the drawer. 'Put it in.'

She glared at the toy, then at him. 'Make me,' she spat.

She recognised her mistake as soon as the words were out of her mouth. That dangerous light appeared in his eyes again, and she shivered when he said, in a slow, low voice: 'You do not want that to happen. Not in the mood I'm in.'

She lay against the pillows and coated the large plug with lubricant. With pink cheeks (she'd not done this in front of anyone before) she spread her legs and felt with two fingers for the entrance to her arse.

'Eyes on me,' he snapped. She looked up. He was at the end of the bed again, watching her, stroking his cock. Occasionally he'd brush his hand against his balls.

Fine. Eyes on him. Glaring, she pushed her buttocks aside, displaying her hole to him. 'Want it?' she spat.

He lazily waved his free hand, ordering her to get on with it.

She steadied her breathing. As angry as she was, she didn't want to hurt herself by shoving the plug hard into her body before it was ready. She applied some lube around the entrance to her arse, then pressed the tip of the plug in, just a little bit. Her lips parted at the funny, but not painful sensation.

She pressed the plug in a little more, and a moan broke free from her throat. His eyes glinted, and he stroked himself a little harder.

Next, she inserted and withdrew the plug, a little at a time, biting her lip – not just at the feeling now, but at how it will feel when he fucks her with her arse full. Then when he fucks her arse itself. Two peas in a pod, they were, sexually-speaking.

Finally, she'd got the plug in place. 'What now?' she demanded.

'Wash your hands,' he said dismissively.

Rolling her eyes, she climbed off the bed and tiptoed to her bathroom, making sure the plug didn't work its way free. When she returned, he was leaning against the wall, looking idly out of the window.

He didn't even look at her when he said 'On your knees. Suck my cock.'

She put her hands on her hips. 'Could you perhaps have asked me to do this before I put the butt plug in?'

He pointed his finger down. 'I'm not asking.'

A smile played on her face as she slowly knelt before him, but a fist seized her hair and yanked her head back. 'Touch any part of me with your teeth and I will use that belt on you,' he snarled. 'Don't think I won't.'

She poked her tongue out at him, and held his cock, studying it to determine the best way of approach.

Like the rest of his body, his cock was beautiful. It was a rich chocolate colour, which made her think briefly of Magnum ice creams. He was circumcised, and the smooth, muscular contours would feel heavenly on her tongue, she knew.

She sealed her wet mouth around the head of his cock and sucked hard.

'Jesus,' Blaise muttered.

She worked her wet mouth, inch by inch, down his cock – retreating a little; then pushing further, stroking the remainder of his cock, watching his taut thighs ripple. His breathing was ragged. When she relaxed her mouth and pulled as much of him into her throat as she could, she briefly looked up and saw that he'd tipped his head back, and his hands were clasped around it.

For a moment, her anger left her. He was sublime.

It was hard to suck cock and clench your butt and pelvic floor muscles together, but she managed a rhythm, pulling hard on his cock, spitting on it so her hand could move slickly up and down. Up and down. Up and –

'Get up.'

She climbed carefully up, and was pleased to see that his cold façade was looking a little rattled. Looking him in the eye, she slowly licked her lips.

He dragged her to the bed, making her climb on so that she was on her hands and knees. He brushed his hands gently over her buttocks – then he slapped one. Hard. The sound cracked in the air.

She whirled around, enraged and slapped him back – on his chest, since that was the flesh in front of her. It hurt. 'Fucking bastard!'

He grabbed her wrists, but Astoria hadn't studied ballet for ten years for nothing. She lashed out with her leg and got him across the top of his thighs. She tried desperately to release herself but he roughly manhandled to the bed, back in the position she was in before.

He leaned over her, anchoring her arms to the mattress with his, ignoring her shrieks and threats. She felt his warm body up flush against her and wondered if she was in a dream or a nightmare.

God, she hated him.

So why, when she felt his erection probe her cunt, did she angle herself so he could enter her in one, brutal stroke?

She didn't know.

She felt amazing. She might be as mad as a nest of hornets, but her body was sublime.

No wonder Blaise couldn't stop thinking about her. It was just her body that was threatening to drive him insane. Good. Once he fucked her, she'd be out of his system.

He built up a steady, hard rhythm, and he was able to let go of her hands. Gripping her hips, he pulled her into him, over and over. The butt plug tightened her channel, and the extra sensation was beyond amazing. She loved it, too, pushing her marvellous arse against his body and moaning for more in a broken voice.

He could feel the end of his resilience approach, but he wasn't done. He'll have that arse of hers. He wanted to fuck every single hole she had until she screamed his name.

He withdrew from her, almost salivating at the sight of his glistening cock as it appeared. 'Shush,' he snapped as she yelped in protest. He withdrew the plug from her body as carefully as he could with his shaking hands, and grabbed the lubricant.

He spread some over his cock, and lined it against the widened hole of her arse.

'Blaise' -

He surged in.

Yes.

Oh, fucking hell, yes.

Astoria's buttocks jiggled as he fucked her arse deep and hard. He wrapped some of her hair around his wrist and pulled her head up. 'Is this what you want, little Tori?' he spat as he relentlessly speared his cock inside her.

'Yes!' she sobbed to the duvet. 'Yes, fuck you to hell!'

'I'm going to enjoy coming in you,' he said, feeling his balls start to tighten. 'Think you're going to join me?'

She screamed in raw anger. 'If you don't let me come I swear to God I will hunt you down and slaughter you!'

He laughed without humour. 'As if you could. Don't squirm, my little Tori. I can feel your body. It's building, isn't it?'

'Oh God,' she sobbed. 'Don't do this to me.'

He wasn't going to care. That was the plan. Come inside her, pull out, put clothes on, leave. He didn't give the slightest shit about Astoria fucking Greengrass.

So he surprised himself, that when he felt his orgasm build he snaked a hand around her front and played with her clitoris.

Her ragged moans increased. 'Oh God, please,' she sobbed.

He pulled her damp hair from the side of her face – gently, this time.

'Come for me, Tori,' he whispered.

Her entire body convulsed powerfully and she cried out in ecstatic relief.

He closed his eyes and felt the most intense orgasm he'd ever had pulse through his body.

Blaise was exhausted. All the rage he'd had trapped within his body had finally gone.

When he gently withdrew, he saw the violent red palm print he'd left on Astoria's buttock.

God. What the hell have I done?

Astoria climbed stiffly off the bed, her face obscured by her hair. Slowly, she pulled a summer dressing down off the hook behind her door and put it on.

'Tori,' he said gently.

She looked up. Her face was wreathed in tears, and Blaise's heart hurt.

'Tori, love,' he tried again. 'I'm sorry' –

'I'm going to have a shower,' she said listlessly. 'Please don't be here when I return.'

Then she was gone.

Blaise scrubbed his face with his hands. Leaving was the last thing he wanted to do. But it was the only thing she wanted.

He climbed into his clothes and pulled on his boots. He collected his jacket and helmet from the front door, and quietly left.

Astoria sat in the corner of the shower, ignoring the slowly-cooling water dousing her body.

She thought back to when Blaise entered her.

When she took him in her mouth.

Then she thought back to the night in Vancouver. He was different. Specifically, his cock was different. The way he came was different.

She'd had so much to drink that night…

Blaise was right. They hadn't had sex that night. She must have dreamt the whole damn thing.

Oh, dear God.

She buried her head in her hands and sobbed.

A/N: What impact will this have on the investigation? Also, Dramione lemons should be back next chapter, if everything goes to plan. Stay tuned!

10/26/2017 Note: Thanks to everyone who's read and reviewed so far. Reviews have been a mixed bag - partly due to a dislike of Astoria (noted, but there's not much I can do about it now), and partly due to confusion over why Blaise would have sex with Astoria when she's (potentially) ruined his life. So...

Blaise's original intention wasn't to have sex with Astoria for enjoyment. He was angry, and if he were a lesser man, or had less self-control, he might have raped her. But he wasn't that kind of guy, and he derived a perverse satisfaction from rough sex and preventing Astoria from orgasming. He was asserting power over her.

They didn't have sex because they were attracted to each other, or even liked each other. They were both angry, and thus had angry sex. It wasn't until the end when both realised the consequences of what they'd done (he used her roughly and may have come close to seriously damaging her; she realised he was telling the truth). Act in haste; repent at leisure, etc.

Angry sex is a strange type of sex because the reasons for it are different from the usual 'I'm attracted to you' sex. So, yes - the scene is fucked up, for sure.

Also, character - wise, Blaise and Astoria are flight and cabin crew, respectively. A reasonable chunk of people in this industry spend a lot of time away and have a different viewpoint of sex than other people might have.

A lot of the sex scenes in this story, including the one in this chapter, are based on stories told to me by people in the industry. Most of them are true. Their jobs are their lifestyles, but their lifestyles aren't for everyone. It's not everyone's cup of tea, shall we say.

Having written all this, you're all entitled to your own opinions! But if some of what I've written here makes sense, even in a fucked-up way, then: yay. :)

Thanks for reading,

NeverNik