Harry's POV

It was cold as hell in the warehouse, which I guessed could only be expected, what with the metal walls and the metal floors and all. The manacles pinched my wrists angrily, while the tape tugged achingly at the skin on the back of my hands and fingers. My stomach growled, and I realized it had been a while since I'd eaten. John had been planning to take me to Burger King for lunch yesterday. A day had passed, right? I was pretty sure, at least, and certain when the door opened and early light streamed inside to warm me slightly. I smelled something sweet, and heard footsteps coming up behind me. I fought not to flinch when I heard Cowl's voice.

"Good morning, Harry. I'll assume your evening was poor? I promise, should you accept my offer, I'll have a bed made up for you in my home." I growled, and glared at the ground. The door shut, and the light left abruptly. The sweet smell grew stronger as I was deprived of my sight again.

"Fuck off." Someone had to be coming to help me. John wouldn't ever let anything between us end like it had. It wasn't his way. I just had to wait, and I was good at waiting, even though it usually hurt. I could almost feel Cowl's smile.

"I'd rather not," he said, crouching down so that I could see the light of his eyes again, see the plate of honeyed bacon and pancakes he held. My stomach roared angrily, begged me to eat, but I turned my face away from it. He laughed, and the sound was bottomless, unfathomable, without a face to match to it. "Harry, I'm certain you're hungry. Please, do eat. There's nothing in it, and it will not bind you to me in any way. I swear it by my magic." The words were clear and heavy, weighted in a way that their deep, symbolic meaning could be understood by any in the room. It was a serious oath to take about a relatively unimportant issue. I couldn't help but think that he could still be lying, because he had enough power that breaking one oath wouldn't do much to him, unless something weird happened, which, admittedly, was always a possibility with magic. My stomach continued to rumble pathetically. I continued to ignore it. Cowl sighed.

"I don't trust you, asshole. Hell's Bells, after all that's happened, why would I?"

"I don't expect you to trust me, right away. I'd think you a fool if you did, and you are far from foolish, though I hate to consider that, after my original estimation of you." I had an idea of what that original estimation was; stupid, nothing more than a thug with too much power and too little brains. That was what most people thought, when they met me. John hadn't, I realized with a bright shock. John had spoken to me as if I were a real life human being with feelings and thoughts and all that other stuff from the moment we met. Sure, I had been a real life human being who he wanted to either buy or threaten out of the game, but I'd been a real life human being. I wasn't, to most people. I sure as hell wasn't to Cowl. I was a prize. I was a tool. I was a shapeless mold of raw energy that he could shape into something useful, something to help him reach his goals and then be discarded. I was under no illusions that the next time conditions were right for a Darkhallow he wouldn't just jump right back on that bandwagon. I didn't plan on being the one to help him achieve it.

"You know, funny thing, I don't really care. I don't want to work for you, or take anything you've got to offer me. In fact, and this might hurt your feelings a little, I'd rather that I never saw hide nor hair of you again, so if you wouldn't mind taking these damned manacles off of me and letting me go home, I might not kill you today." Cowl laughed again, two fingers under my chin to force me to look into the two vague glittery dots that served as his eyes. I felt the tugging of a Soul Gaze and closed my eyes, because I've seen some horrible things, like that. I didn't want to add whatever hell Cowl's soul was to the list.

"Those are rather strong words, for a man bound on a warehouse floor." I could feel his fingers fall away, only to return and grasp my hair tightly, too tightly, sharply pulling until my scalp ached. "Now, open your eyes, Harry. Look into my eyes. I want you to see how similar we truly are, how our pasts are linked. If you look into me, I am certain that your tune will change." My eyes stayed shut tightly, tightly enough that they sort of hurt, and I could feel a few tears leaking down.

"I don't think so, pal. Your soul isn't one I want to remember forever." I heard fabric shifting.

"And how is it that you know that, if you've yet to see it, Harry?"

"Because you're one of the villains, Cowl."

"Is that so? Indeed, perhaps I do things that some would see as not proper, and yet I've done it all because I felt it would make this world of ours a better place. Is that not what you do, Harry? Do you not think that the average person on the street would have no issue with you burning the Thralls of the Red Court alive? With your killing of the Renfields? You have certainly not always been in the white." I flinched a little, but it was hardly noticeable with the way my eyes were clenched shut. I still felt like he knew, somehow.

"Go away." His hand pulled once, hard, and I realized that maybe I should cut my hair pretty soon.

"No. I'm closer to the truth than you'd have me think, aren't I? Come now, won't you just cooperate for a moment? I'll ask nothing more of you than a simple moment. Is that truly so difficult for you to do?"

"Yes," I said, because I didn't feel like arguing right then. I didn't feel like doing much. I didn't… I was tired, and I was hungry, and I was cold, and my wrists hurt, and my scalp hurt, and my eyes hurt. I wanted to see John. I didn't know why, but I did. I wanted to apologize for running out on him. I wanted to hit him for making me run out on him. I wanted to see those green eyes again, flashing bright and wild with amusement. "Hell's Bells, yes. It's impossible. I'll never cooperate with someone like you." He whispered a word, harsh and husky and inhuman, and then I couldn't close my eyes anymore.

"If you will not cooperate of your own will, then I will force it," he snarled as his eyes connected with mine and I fell, deep, deep, deep into him, into a place that no one else was ever supposed to see. It was dark. Apparently his mastery of shadows extended to his insides too. I wouldn't be surprised if he bled back as well. The shadows were cut suddenly by red, and yes, it was nothing but red. Red the color of blood, red like a million fiery sunsets. It was too bright in the darkness around it, and hurt my eyes. It flowed and shifted like molasses, growing ever closer to me, until I could see scenes being played out colorfully in the folds of it. There was a boy there, with one dark eye and one blue one, each of which glittered unnervingly, and seemed mismatched with the sunny blonde hair atop his head. There was something odd about his face, some sharpness to it that wasn't natural to a boy of his age, and he couldn't have been more than ten, not really. He was too small to speak of, and I was certain I could've wrapped my fingers around his wrists three times over. There was someone else with him, a woman. The boy held out a hand, and he whispered a word, and then she was dead.

In the next scene, he was older, and his face was burned terribly, on the side with the blue eye. The waxy, damaged flesh made the bright color stand out even more next to the shadow of the other side. I felt my own hand throb in sympathy, and I felt my real body's teeth gnash together. I wouldn't be surprised if one of them cracked. The boy was standing in an alleyway, dressed in the deep brown robes of an apprentice. They were dirty, streaked in mud and blood and other city scum. A man in a gray Warden's cloak had a hand atop his head, long and pale and thin, and the boy himself pointed at something on the wall. He smiled kindly and nodded, then said something or another that sounded like rushing water. The boy grinned back, even though it had to have made the burns on his face, obviously pretty recent, ache. The scene melted, and a new one appeared.

Here, the boy was older, maybe eighteen, standing over the man's body. Tears flowed from his good eye, though his mouth was set in a hard, determined line. His cloak was gray, now, a Warden's cloak. I watched him tear it away angrily, through it onto the bloody ground beside the man's body. Other Wardens I didn't recognize were trying to talk to him, their hands held out pleadingly. He turned and ran. The scene changed.

I couldn't see the boy's face anymore, as it was covered in a black hood that coated it in shadow. He was holding a gun. There were bodies of Wardens on the ground. His breath was coming in heavy, heaving gasps. He dropped the gun and he ran, and as he ran he grew. He broadened, got a couple of inches taller, until he looked like Cowl. He ran until a thick sheath of shadows wrapped him up, cocooned him, and then he was gone. Simply vanished. When he next appeared, the shadows around him seemed sentient, demon-like, but they weren't demons, they were ambitions. Ambitions of cleansing the world of things that were bad and unjust. There was nothing else there but ambition. It had replaced the soul of the boy as the shadow replaced his skin. I fell out of his soul and back to my body, my head throbbing, my eyes pulsing with pressure. Cowl stepped away from me.

"Do you see now?" he asked me.

"Yeah," I said, and I took a deep breath, to get myself back together how I was supposed to be. "You had a shitty life. The Wardens are mostly all assholes. I get it, I do, but this isn't the way to get back at them. I hate death. I hate that I have to be the one to choose whether or not someone lives or dies sometimes. I can't sleep at night, sometimes, because of what I've done. I'm dirty, I know that, but I try not to be. You're not trying anymore." I heard him laugh again.

"I never tried. She never did, so why should I? I am not perfect, and I do not want to be. I will accomplish what I want to accomplish, Harry, and I'd rather you not become a piece of collateral damage. It is the people like you that I wish to save." I smiled crookedly, tauntingly.

"I don't need saving." And then, because the Big Guy has this thing about proving me wrong, the door crashed open and my cavalry came in the form of a Valkyrie, a Vampire, a Tibetan Temple Dog, a Wyldfay, and a Mafia Don. I'd been hoping for something a little more impressive, honestly. Still, I'd take what I could get, at this point. My fucking wrists hurt. I twisted my head around awkwardly in order to smile at them, and Toot-Toot immediately came to hover around my head, a bright blue halo of light.

"'Za Lord! Are you well? Has the Black Robed One harmed you?" I laughed.

"Nah, I'm dandy, Major General Toot-Toot Minimus. I'm glad to see you, though." Cowl reached out to swat the little creature down, but it darted away laughing. I smirked. Cowl growled.

"What an unpleasant interruption," he said, straightening up to face my rescue party. I attempted to wiggle to my own feet as well, as if I could do anything, but I couldn't quite manage to even reach my knees.

"Raith, get him loose, now. Gard and I will take the bastard down," John hissed, and I yelled to call attention to myself.

"Don't be stupid, John! These are Thorn Manacles, Thomas can't get them off. All of you need to focus on Cowl. He's a bad motherfucker." In my nervousness, magic started forming in my hands. The manacles reacted immediately, spikes burrowing into the skin of my wrists. I whined loudly. Cowl tapped my side lightly with a foot.

"Do stop injuring yourself, Harry. Simply summoning more magic will not make them stop hurting. Now, if you were under my tutelage, I could tell you how to get them off." I shook my head.

"I won't work for you, not ever. I get what you're doing and why you're doing it, but I won't help you." I could almost feel him grin.

"Later, then. I do not wish to kill a man who may yet become my heir. Now, let us rid ourselves of this interruption, yes?" I could feel the magic filling up his hands, sparking in the air around him. It twitched and tingled at the outside of the cuffs, making the thorns inside stir curiously, unsure of whether to prick me or the new, intrusive magic. Gard seemed to feel it too, because she raised a tall, wide shield, into which Cowl's force spell slammed, red and blue sparks flying as the two forces met. Thomas drew his blade, his skin bright with a nearly holy glow, and Mouse bared his teeth. The blue light was dribbling from his jaws again, bright and glittery, his eyes sparking brilliantly in the dark room. Gard pressed forward harder to hold the shield, but Cowl kept firing more and more force. I kept squirming, trying to get closer so I could maybe knock him down or something, when I felt a hand on the small of my back, stilling me. To my credit, I didn't cry out, thankfully, since it was John. He'd somehow managed to creep around passed the shield without Cowl seeing, apparently.

He jerked at the tape on my hands, tearing out the tiny, pale hairs that covered them, and I winced. After that, I felt him start fiddling with the lock. The thorns, as they felt the tampering, stuck out and dug in again. I pressed my mouth into the frozen floor to hide the noise, and he husked out an apology into my ear. I shook my head.

"Stop, stop," I mumbled softly, "I can get out, now that my hands are free. Go. You guys get out; I've dealt with Cowl before." I heard him say no as he kept working at the lock. I felt myself crying as the thorns dug in even deeper, until they felt like they were pricking the bone. I felt more than heard it when Gard's shield broke, although I certainly heard Thomas scream as he rushed at Cowl. I also heard the sick thump of his body flying into the wall. "Get him out," I hissed, and started working at my thumbs. The thorns tore at my flesh as I attempted to move. He pressed down on my hands to hold them still, and finally, finally, finally, I heard a click. They fell free. I then felt fingers prodding at the holes in my wrists that'd probably be scars. I didn't let him do it for long, though, because I heard him start growling, and I was pretty sure that meant he was going to have a shit fit in a few moments.

"Harry, what the hell were those cuffs?" he asked, but I waved him off and cried out my most favoritest word. A wrist-thick jet of flame went flying from my hand at Cowl's exposed back. He dived away at the last second so only his sleeve got singed, damn him. I looked around as rapidly as I could and saw Thomas stumbling up to his feet. He flashed a grin at me when he saw me. Cowl laughed.

"My, my. Perhaps I shouldn't have involved those men, eh? As that has apparently garnered me the interest of Chicago's mighty Baron and his pet Valkyrie. I'd have come after you eventually, you know, but this is a bit earlier than I had planned. Still, perhaps now I can take out all the major players with a single strike. I wonder, Harry, if your friends fell, would you be more willing to bend to my hand?" I laughed, high and keening, my wrists streaming blood steadily, the warmth of it trickling down my fingertips to drip onto the floor. It was dangerous and it was stupid, but I didn't really care, just then. He was threatening my dog. He was threatening Toot. He was threatening my friends. He was threatening my brother. He was threatening John. He couldn't do that. No one was allowed to do that. I gave him my sweetest smile.

"No. Forzare," I snarled, and felt Soulfire pour through me. An ethereal hand appeared in the air, red dribbling from its wrist to match mine. Cowl laughed joyously and dived away.

"What a funny trick, for a man like you. Soulfire for the tainted one, so interesting," he yelled. That was when all hell broke loose, by the way. When did it not, really? Still, this was worse than usual. The room flooded with ghosts, hundreds upon hundreds of them, cramming together so closely that they almost became opaque. They all screamed, and piled on top of Cowl with sudden, voracious intensity, intensity that told me that something was giving them direction. There'd been only one man I knew of that could make ghosts follow his direction to that degree willingly, but any notion of him being involved was swept away. That particular man didn't like me much anymore, because of the danger I represented, and really, I couldn't blame him. Sometimes I wondered why none of my current friends seemed willing to follow his example.

Anyway, Cowl screamed, because that pile of ghosts allowed my Soulfire hand to grab him and squeeze, to throw him around the room without restraint. I was almost certain I had him, this time, almost certain that maybe I could finally get to the bottom of the Black Council, but I really should've known better. That would've been too easy. Cowl simply ripped open a hole to the Nevernever and fell through. The ghosts followed him. The hole sealed. I finally noticed that hey, my wrists really, really did hurt. Mortimer appeared from behind a veil so skillful I hadn't noticed it, stumbling some. I gasped a little, and he offered a wavering smile.

"Hey," he mumbled. I blinked. Gard laughed.

"He helped us find where you were, Mr. Dresden, he and your little fairy friend." Toot, who'd been determinedly chasing after Cowl with his box cutter while I flung him around the room, fluttered up and grinned proudly at me. I grinned back.

"Thank you, major general. You'll receive a commendation for this, of course." Fairy dust swirled around him as he fluttered his wings a few times happily.

"Pizza?" he asked. I nodded seriously.

"And a medal. Keep working like this, major general, and you'll be a lieutenant general in no time." Toot smiled.

"That's good, right?" I laughed.

"It's excellent. And, uh, thanks to you too, Mort. I've got to say, I wasn't really expecting you to be part of my rescue party." His smile turned a little more real, a little more like the one I used to see all the time.

"I didn't want you to go out of the game like that. The small timers around here need you around." I smiled. "Don't be expecting it all the time, though. I still don't want you around me." I could feel John glaring from behind me, and rolled my eyes as I turned around. John's eyes seemed far darker than usual, and his face was drawn tightly. He'd been worried. I instinctively put a hand on his shoulder and he pressed nearer to me, calming some.

"Let us go back to my home, Harry, and deal with your wrists. On the way, I'd like you to explain to me what those handcuffs were, and what they were doing to you. Please, Ms. Gard, pick them up." The blonde woman did so as Thomas limped over to me. Mouse nosed at my hip, and I scratched his ears for him. He licked my hand.

"Are you doing okay, Thomas?" He was panting some, his eyes flashing from silver to gray rapidly, and John was careful to keep me at least five feet away from him, even as I wiggled around to get closer to him. He was my brother; he wouldn't hurt me anyway, not for anything.

"No. The bastard broke my hip, my leg, and my arm when he threw me into the wall. It healed, but I'm really Hungry. I'm so, so Hungry, Harry, I don't know if I can control it." Hell's Bells. It wasn't often that something could damage him enough to get him this way. I broke John's hold on my arm to get closer to him, but Thomas reeled back. "Don't! Don't, Harry, please, stay over there. You don't smell as good when your scent mixes with his." John growled. Mort fled the building, Toot fluttering along behind him. Mouse stood beside Gard a few feet away, watching placidly.

"If you even so much as breathe on him, I'll kill you," John said, and the way he said it, blank, clear, told me he meant it. I was pretty sure there weren't many living men that had heard that statement from him. I tried to speak, but Thomas cut me off. I was reminded of that night, a while ago, in Mac's, except for now Thomas was pointedly not touching me.

"I hate you," Thomas hissed, but it wasn't quite his voice. His eyes were solid disks of marble, now, inhuman. He looked like Lara, perfect in every way, but unreal, a caricature of a human. I hated seeing him this way, and he himself hated being that way, but sometimes he couldn't help it. I tried to break John's hold again, but it was like an iron band around my arm. "He's my little brother, Marcone. Mine. My stupid, stupid baby brother. I don't fucking care how much you worried about him. I don't fucking care how much you love him. You're not allowed to have him, because he's not yours to have." I'd never heard him this feral before. John's eyes were solid emerald chips, frozen solid with unworldly rage.

"This has been going on for long enough, Mr. Raith. We will settle this now. As Harry's little fairy said, it is my ring on his finger." Thomas raised his chin haughtily.

"And my blood in his veins. I'm his only family, Marcone. I'm all he has left. He needs me, not you. There is nothing to settle, because you had no right to him in the first place. No one does, because everyone will just hurt him."

"You would not? If I released him, allowed him to go over to you as he so wants to, could you honestly tell me that you wouldn't eat him? I would never hurt him, Mr. Raith. I love him far too much for that. I'd kill anyone that tried it, up to and including you. I care little for matters of blood." The words being said were surreal. I was lost again. I wanted to say something, but I couldn't find the words. Thomas looked shamed.

"Bastard. I can't help it. I don't want this. I've never wanted this, but I've always wanted my baby brother. I knew the second Mother had him. I looked for him since then, every minute I could. He knows… he knows I won't do anything to him." Thomas looked lost; almost as if he was afraid his words weren't the truth.

"John, just stop it, okay? I love Thomas. He's my… he's my big brother. I don't think you would've been able to get me out if he hadn't been here too. And he's telling the truth; he's the only family I've got, and I wouldn't trade him for anything. He's annoying, he always forgot to feed Mister and Mouse, he never remembered to buy groceries, he slept with women on my bed and on my couch and on my floor, and he couldn't hold down a job for shit, but I care about him, and if you don't fucking stop doing shit like this to him, I'm not going to speak with you again. I don't have many people, John, and I'm sure as hell not going to lose the ones I do have before I absolutely have to." John stared at me. Thomas, shaking some, stared at me. Gard smirked, which was pretty unnerving. Mouse seemed to be rolling his eyes at all of us, his tongue lolling out the side of his mouth.

"You… you called me big brother," Thomas finally said, grinning. "Take that, Marcone! He'd pick me over you! Ha!" I rolled my eyes at him, and John's fingers tightened around me, almost as if he was planning to pick me up and carry me off so I couldn't leave his side. When I turned to glance at him, his eyes seemed sort of wild, a small, desperate note hidden somewhere deep underneath. His face was tense and seemed almost too tight. I saw some of his age peeking out for only the second time, the first being that day in the nursing home.

"I don't want to pick between you guys, though. I care about both of you, and if I suddenly had to leave John because he did something I couldn't forgive, I can admit I'd be pretty upset for a long time. Also, for that period of time, I wouldn't be talking to you either, Thomas, because you've been provoking him this entire time. I'm just yelling at him because I think he should be mature enough to deal with it without resorting to hurting you like that and going all caveman on me. I want you to try to get along with him too, Thomas. I mean, hell, I'm not asking for you two to exchange friendship bracelets and have tea parties together. I just want some semblance of civility. You're both in my life, and I want you both to stay there, but if you keep fighting like five year olds, I don't think that's possible." They kept staring at me. John's fingers spasmed, and I felt him take a deep breath against my side.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Raith. I will attempt to be more polite to you," he finally choked out through clenched teeth.

"I'm sorry too. Harry seems to like you, I guess, so I can deal with you, at least for a while, probably. Still, if you ever do anything to him, I will fucking kill you, and Harry, I will be telling you I told you so for the rest of your life, at least after I make you feel better. Now, Marcone, as a gesture of good will, I'll tell you this: don't use your garbage disposal until you get it checked out, by the way. Something might be wrong with it, maybe." Thomas' voice sounded just as choked off and unwilling as John's, especially near the actual apology. I figured they were both mentally stabbing each other. Still, they were trying, and that had to count for something, right? I couldn't help but laugh and shake my head.

"You two are bad at this, but still, I appreciate it. Come on, I don't want to wait around in here for too long. No telling where Cowl is going to come out of the Nevernever. By the way, did he have anything on me to block tracking spells?" John nodded. "I need to go somewhere where I can get that off, then. Spells that do that aren't strictly against any Laws, but the Council might make an exception for me." Thomas winced a little, and John nodded, leading me out by my arm. Gard and Mouse trotted along behind us.

When we got back to John's place, he immediately led me into some sort of living room thing and had Gard drive an incredibly unwilling Thomas to his salon, so he could eat. He had a hamburger sent in for me to eat and sat the Thorn Manacles, which he'd gotten back from Gard, on the little coffee table. I curled into the leather couch and tried to eat as he rubbed antiseptic on my wrists and bandaged them. It didn't work very well, and I ended up getting ketchup smeared all over his face, but still I was hungry, okay? Besides, I get hurt all the time, and I say food is more important than dealing with that, especially if the food is a hamburger. I noticed how John's fingertips kept lingering on the ring he'd given me. His hands were hot.

"Will you tell me what those things are, Harry?" John having been almost unnervingly silent since he had my food brought up here, finally spoke again.

"Thorn Manacles," I mumbled through a full mouth, "Real nasty construct, no one knows where they actually came from, all that stuff. For a vanilla mortal, they'd serve as normal handcuffs, unless someone tampered with them to try and take them off. They're magic sensitive, though, so if a practitioner like me is wearing them, and tries to summon magic, then they're triggered to cause enough pain that the practitioner's concentration is broken, and they can't hold the magic long enough to use it." He nodded.

"And these have been used on you before today?" I raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah. Pretty much every practitioner out there who's pissed off the kind of people I have has had them on at some point. They're a top way to get a wizard out of the way, if you can get a hold of them. I can get out of them though, usually, if I dislocate my thumbs." John nodded.

"That being the reason why your hands were taped up." I nodded.

"Yeah. I did it when Torelli's guys got me, so they taped me up. If I'd known they were taking me to Cowl, I might've managed to get enough fire together to burn through it, so I could get loose, but hey, nothing to do for it now. You and the others got me out, and somehow even managed to get Mort to come along." John patted my wrist and wiped his face clean with a white handkerchief. It was sort of unfair, that he got to look so cool and fancy all the time. If I carried used a handkerchief people would think I was stupid. I do carry one or seven or ten with me, though. You never know when one might come in handy. He nodded.

"Yes, well. I should hope you won't do anything so foolish as to run off by yourself like that again. The world is quite dangerous for you, as I'm sure you know." I snickered.

"Don't try to pull that business man shit with me, Johnny. You were worried! Johnny Marcone was worried about me! Oh, whatever shall the world do, now that its most prominent hardass has a crush on the pretty much suicidal wizard?" He narrowed his eyes playfully and shifted around so he was in front of me, his hand spanning my chest (which was also really unfair, by the way), and his knees around mine.

"Yes, I was worried. Very, very worried. Excessively so. Worried enough I felt ill. You stupid, stupid man," he mumbled, going from playful to serious far too quickly for anyone normal, the weirdo. His lips were pulled up into a sharp smile. I felt my breathing come too quickly, my chest heaving up against his hand. His eyes were still narrowed, but it was in a different way, now. His voice had taken on that should-be-illegal husk again. I smiled waveringly. He pressed forward and kissed me again, harshly. I pressed back, felt his teeth tugging at sharply at my lip, needle sharp. I shivered, and slowly felt my arms moving to wrap around him, pull him nearer. He refused to move, and instead simply shifted his knee to press it into my crotch gently. I grunted against his mouth, and he took the opportunity to slip his tongue into my mouth and play with mine. His knee shifted, and I pressed up into it to get a little friction. He suddenly moved it away, and laughed at whatever pathetic noise I may or may not have produced.

It'd been a long time since I'd gotten this keyed up this fast. I wasn't used to it. I felt a little lightheaded, but don't tell John that. His ego is city-sized as it is, he doesn't need to know that he can reduce me to breathlessness with a kiss. It felt like he was trying to print his name across every part of my mouth, as if to make it so I could never forget what this felt like again. He pulled away with one last lick to my lips. I made some sort of noise that I was pretty sure was supposed to be some type of word, or maybe even a phrase. It sounded more like a vaguely annoyed grumble, though, like the kind of sound that I'd make when I was half asleep and closer to dead than I generally preferred to be. My face felt hot, and my magic was getting that lazy quality that meant I was actually feeling good. John shivered above me.

"Are you casting a spell?" he whispered? Now, I could've made a joke about bad pick-up lines right then, but I'm classier than that.

"Yeah, I'm a Black Magic Woman, John. You should know that much, by now." See? That joke was a lot classier than one about pick-up lines. I make bad jokes when I'm nervous, okay? And I was definitely nervous, just then. It felt a little like my first time again, fumbling around and trying to figure out the wonder of tab A into slot B with little to no previous knowledge. John chuckled, moving to mouth at my throat. The vibration of his voice felt strange there when he spoke again.

"I'm being serious, Harry. I feel it, the magic. What are you doing?" I let out a deep breath, and with it came another wave of the lazy, soft magic. It felt almost cloud-like, to me, thickening in the air until it was almost a solid mass in and of itself.

"I'm not doing anything. It just does that sometimes, okay? I can't help it. It's just like the techno-bane." I felt his short hair tickle my jaw softly as he began to lick at the skin of my neck, almost cat-like, before he nipped the place. I hissed, and my head tilted back. The magic swirled, a little, not angrily, but teasingly. It seemed to be attracted to John, determined to brush against him softly. He snarled.

"Harry," he groaned, "I cannot do this if you insist upon doing that." Well. My magic was a pervert. Who knew?

"I just said I can't help it," I managed to get out as he bit down into my neck harder. His thumbs brushed my nipples through my shirt. I whined, having had no idea that that would actually feel that good. "It does that when I feel good. It doesn't happen very often. I can… I can try to control it, I guess, but I've never done it before. Susan always… Susan always liked it," I said, actually managing to get that whole big statement out with an impressive level of coherence. The bite grew rough and deep, almost deep enough that I worried he'd gone Red Court when I wasn't looking, but then he pulled away, which is something a member of the Red Court would never do. The aphrodisiac saliva would be a nice, clean explanation for why that felt that nice, though, or at least nicer and cleaner than 'I was just a lot kinkier than I thought I was'.

"Don't mention her name when I've got you like this. I don't want to think about anyone else ever seeing you this way, sweetheart," he rumbled, sucking softly on the bite in apology.

"Sorry," I gasped, and the magic surged up again, floating around the room wispily. I was pretty sure I heard something that sounded like an electronic device frying, which I probably should've been more concerned about than I was. John's back arched into it, and suddenly he was tearing at my duster, ripping it from my shoulders and tossing it somewhere across the room. My shirt, which the bastard actually tore a little before he managed to get it over my head, went there next. His blunted nails raked down my chest, and I shifted to press into the feeling.

"It feels good, Harry, your magic. I've never been with anyone that felt like this, so intense, so dangerous. And you're letting me. I suppose that's the most surprising part of all this, that you'd allow me this, and I know you're allowing it. There's no way in the world I could manage this if you didn't let me. You're letting me bite and scratch and talk and touch, Harry. You're letting me," he repeated, a seemingly endless litany as he slid worshipfully down my body, his tongue making hot-then-cold trails across my chest and stomach and it was nice, amazing, wonderful, different. My cock twitched in my pants, and his palm settled, too large, on top of it. I jerked up into it, and he laughed, his face a little flushed, his eyes vibrant, bright green.

"John, come on, we're… we're on a couch, stop it," I coughed out. He laughed.

"It's my couch, Harry, and the door is locked. It's fine." That was when the door opened, and a red haired mountain entered with raised eyebrows and crossed arms.

"What the hell, Boss?" Hendricks finally said, after complete silence reigned for a few moments.

"Has anyone ever told you what a liar you are, John?" I asked, kicking him lightly in the chest. He stumbled up and straightened his suit, as if that would hide his hard on. I felt my face flame brightly red. John coughed, and positioned himself mostly in front of me, as if Hendricks would be particularly interested in the lanky wizard when he had a Valkyrie to stare at. He cleared his throat.

"Mr. Hendricks, I apologize. I had thought I'd locked the door behind us. I'll endeavor to have it not happen again. Now, what is it?" Hendricks appeared to be valiantly holding in chuckles. I wasn't nearly so nice about it. John sounded absolutely pissed, and it was rather apparently had problems when someone interrupted his 'personal time' on a not at all private couch in a not at all private room with a certainly not at all private wizard. It was funny because it was unexpected, really. I wondered why he hadn't reacted this badly when I'd accidentally walked in on him and Helen in his office. I'd honestly sort of figured he was something of an exhibitionist, after that, because it's kind of irrational to sleep with a woman in your office and not expect someone to walk in on it. Maybe it had something to do with the magic I was putting off. I ignored the fact that Helen, being a practitioner, would do the exact same thing when she was like I was now. It could've been the fact that it was Hendricks too, I guessed. Hell's Bells, John probably felt like how I would if Murphy walked in on me. Still, I noticed that his erection hadn't exactly gone down during any of this, and the dark, heavy glance he shot at me told me that if whatever Hendricks had to say wasn't of life or death importance, the enforcer might wake up the next morning lacking something quite important to him. Hendricks seemed to realize that too, from the way he shifted. I'd never thought I'd see the big man look nervous.

"I found that thing you were looking for, before you left earlier." John's eyes went bright with something that was most certainly not lust, but instead something far less kind. It turned him into the Gentleman with a mission instead of just plain old John, John who I cared about and wanted to spend time with and was about to sleep with. I didn't really like it, because it made it not really him anymore.

"Really now? How quickly can you get it to me?" Hendricks' face went serious.

"I got it in your room waiting for you, Boss. Didn't take long to find it." John nodded, and stepped closer to Hendricks.

"Thank you, Mr. Hendricks. Harry, please remain here. I'll be back within two or three hours." I raised my eyebrows and crossed my arms.

"What 'item' could there possibly be that would take you three hours to look at?" He smirked at me.

"Are you truly that impatient to continue? I assure you I'd not mind were you to go on by yourself in my absence. I will have to shower first, you understand, before I can suffer any mention of that item I must deal with, which may take rather a long time," he said, gesturing to his hips and crotch vaguely, for emphasis. Hendricks rolled his eyes. I blushed again and stared down at my own lap, partly because of his movement and partially because he'd just given me permission to masturbate in this room while he was working, and gave said permission in front of Hendricks. I was, to be quite honest, mortified.

"I don't do that," I mumbled, "I don't like it." John hissed lowly, his eyes flashing narrow again.

"I'll of course work to correct that," he managed, "Later. Now, however, I'd prefer you not mention such things, as I'll never be able to concentrate on what I must do if you keep speaking." He swept out of the room with Hendricks before I could even think to reply. Asshole. I stood up uncomfortably and grabbed the most boring looking book I could find on one of the shelves, some kind of economics whatever, and settled down to read it as I waited for John to come back.