Marcone's POV
My body ached miserably, every hormone I had yelling at me that I was being rather stupid and that maybe I should go back and enjoy the perfectly ready and willing wizard sitting on my couch, just in case he changed his mind later on, but ignored all of it. Vargassi had done something to Harry, and that something was a loose end. I needed to find out what had happened, deal with it, and then finally allow myself pleasure. I wasn't going to let Harry get hurt again simply because I didn't have the time to clean up a mess, like what had just happened with Torelli and his guys and that damnable Black Council I'd heard nothing about before this day. Perhaps I should also look into getting Harry's previous case files, so nothing like this could happen without my knowing again. Hendricks dropped me off at my room so that I could take a quick, frigid shower before he led me down to the basement and to a thick, locked door.
"Which one is back here?"
"Marco. So far as I can tell, Tony died about a year ago." I nodded.
"It should be fine. Tony wouldn't have remembered anyway, by now, but Marco's enough of a sadistic prick, he'll know if whatever happened was anything I should know about." I rolled up my shirtsleeves some, and spared Hendricks a nod as I settled by hand on the doorknob. "Please, go keep Harry company and make sure he won't come looking for me. I'd rather he not find out about this, as I'm quite sure it'd upset him." Hendricks smirked at me, shoulders loose, obviously attempting to convey an aura of relaxation, likely to calm me down.
"You want me to have sex with your wizard?" I laughed.
"Mr. Hendricks, I believe you know exactly what I meant when I said to keep him company, and were you to attempt the other definition of that term, I believe you also know full well what will happen to you." He snorted.
"Funny thing is, I don't know whether to be more scared of you or him." He wandered off slowly, and I made certain not to open the door until his footsteps had faded. It slipped open easily on perfectly silent hinges, the room dark and almost dismal. Marco sat at a metal table, his arms and legs bound stiffly to his chair.
He was thinner than I remembered, his face pulled tight and lean and hungry. His hair was cut short and buzzed close to his skull, and he still had a scar on his forehead from a nasty strike I myself had dealt him many years before. He sneered at me when I walked in.
"Heya, Mel. Oh, no sorry. You're Johnny now, right? Gentleman John, cleaning up Chicago. Saint John, putting the organized back into crime." He laughed bitterly. "Why the hell you got me back here anyway? I hadn't stepped foot in this city ever since you kicked me out, asshole. I ain't got nothing to do with this no more. I been living clean." I snorted. The day Marco Vargassi lived on the straight and narrow was the day I'd retire. Marco rolled his eyes. "Clean as I can, anyway. It ain't like you can just step out of the business totally. I do some petty shit, but nothing big, nothing you should be concerned about. I even got a job now, since Pop kicked it." I took a seat in front of him lazily.
"Is that so? How wonderful for you. I, however, have not had you brought here because of anything you've done recently." Marco sneered at me.
"Is this about that kid again? The one in the hospital? Christ, you took my family down for that. What the hell else do you want, dickhead?" I smiled politely, my hands clasped in front of me on the cool metal desk.
"No, Mr. Vargassi. I am not so petty that I would bring up such a thing right now. You are, of course, perfectly safe unless anything happens to her, in which case you may be assured that you'll face a few rather troubling encounters with the good people of the police force. I've called you here for something else; do you recall a man by the name of Harry Dresden?" Marco never had learned to control his face, it seemed, as it flashed with recognition at the name, along with a fair bit of confusion.
"Met him once or twice. What about him?" I kept up the polite smile.
"Wonderful, wonderful. Tell me, Mr. Vargassi, what is it that he did to gain the ire of yourself and your father?" Marco raised his eyebrows, and I'm certain he'd have crossed his arms if he could've.
"Why do you give a damn? Trying to see if he's fucking one of your operations up?" I shook my head.
"No. He and I often find ourselves on the same side, actually. He's one of mine." For the first time, Marco seemed a bit frightened. He'd seen many times what I did to those who harmed someone I called my own. I enjoyed seeing the fear blossom across his features. He deserved it.
"He ain't worth it, Johnny, I promise. The guy's a scrawny freak, he can't do shit for you. Kick him to the side, knock him off or something." My teeth gnashed together harshly as I glared at the man. He was calling Harry, my darling, my only, a freak, saying he was not worth what I had to offer, even though it was I who was unworthy of what he could give me. If he thought any of this would help him get out of this unscathed, he was quite wrong.
"He is worth whatever I may give him, Mr. Vargassi, and I'd appreciate it if you did not say otherwise. Mr. Dresden is very important to me. Now, tell me what you did to him." Marco snickered.
"Always knew you were a little off, Johnny, but I didn't think you'd be into guys, especially not skinny fucks like that. Look, man, I didn't do shit to him. It was Pop he pissed off, so Pop was the one who dealt with him. His foster father owed us some cash, and then died. Little Dresden didn't want to pay. Pop didn't like it, so Pop went after him. We hounded him for a while, then we stopped, because you were just starting up your little coup, and we didn't have the resources to devote to a small fish like him anymore. Still, what's a good Catholic like you doing screwing around with a guy like him anyway? He wore that symbol thing, the Satan one, whenever I saw him. Never took the thing off." I sneered.
"It is a pentacle, Mr. Vargassi, and is a symbol of magic, not one of demonology. You, however, have not answered my question. What did this 'hounding' entail?"
"You want a fucking comprehensive list or something? Goddamn, Johnny, we had you fucking with people before. It wasn't much, yeah? I think he might've gotten beat up a couple of times, and I know we trashed his shitty hotel room once. He was pretty agreeable after that. I got him to work at one of our bars, to start paying us back, but the little dumbass started trying to keep his tips, and I'm pretty fucking sure he was breaking the machinery. Pop actually kind of liked him, though, thought he had guts. He'd pull him aside every now and then, bring him to one of the back rooms. Can I go now, Johnny?" Agreeable? Since when was Harry ever 'agreeable' with people who tried to harm him in some way? And why in the world hadn't he gone to Ms. Murphy? I drummed my fingers against my thigh softly, perhaps worriedly. I'd never heard of Vargassi being interested in someone who he thought owed him money, before.
"Why did Harry's guardian take money from you all?" He shrugged as best he could.
"How the hell should I know? I don't fucking ask why people need cash, I just loan it out. We get our money back one way or another no matter what, so I don't really give a fuck."
"Why was Tony interested in him?" Marco rolled his eyes.
"Johnny, my dad did whatever the hell he wanted. It wasn't my fucking place to ask questions about who he was hanging with, just like he didn't ask about my shit, so long as I did what he said. I don't know shit else about little Dresden, though. Hey, is he here right now, Johnny? Think maybe you could bring him around for a visit? I sure as hell didn't like him as much as Pop did, but hey, he wouldn't be the worst guy in the world to fuck. Think maybe he wants a break from you?" I smiled politely. I then politely punched him in the nose and sent his chair tumbling backwards. He yelled in a way that made me glad the room was soundproofed. "Damn it! What the fuck kind of gentleman are you, Johnny? Jesus Christ, balls, that fucking hurts, man!" I saw blood dripping from between his fingers. Good, I'd likely broken his nose, then. Perhaps that would teach him to watch his words. I allowed a smirk to flash quickly across my face over the smile.
"I'll have Mr. Hendricks come and return you to wherever you're meant to be. I'm certain whatever town you've polluted now is missing you fiercely." He moaned pathetically. I turned on my heel and marched out of the room, Vargassi's blood shimmering wetly on my knuckles.
Harry was dozing on the couch, a book even I hadn't dared to touch for fear of falling asleep lying on his chest, opened to the third page. I chuckled softly, and wiped the blood from my hand with the handkerchief in my pocket. Hendricks sat on a large recliner, his laptop on his lap, big fingers typing away at some paper or another.
"Hey, John," he said distractedly, "I promise, he was like that when I came in here." I nodded.
"Of course, of course. Would you mind going and emptying out that room in the basement for me?" Hendricks shut the laptop with a quiet click and nodded.
"Sure thing, boss. Want I should lock the door behind me?" he questioned with a teasing smirk, obviously completely unable to ignore my little blunder from before, even though it could've very easily happened to anyone, and really, I shouldn't be blamed for my common sense falling victim to Harry when he's acting like how he was then.
"Hush, Mr. Hendricks, and yes, please do." He laughed and stomped out, closing the door behind him. I smirked when I heard the lock kick into place, and slowly stripped my button down off. I crept closer to Harry, and carefully plucked the book from his chest to sit it atop the coffee table. He stirred slightly, but then just grunted and fell back into his sleep. He hadn't put his shirt back on either, which was quite a relief. I bent down to lick his neck, long and lean and pale, clear of scars, which actually surprised me quite a lot. He grunted again, and raised a hand weakly to wave some imaginary something away.
"Go 'way, Mister. 'M tired, I'll feed ya lat'r." I couldn't help but snort. Harry makes me far too undignified for comfort. I slid up a little higher to whisper in his ear.
"I'm not your cat, Harry. It's me, John. Come on, sweetheart, wake up for me." He jolted awake suddenly, nearly sending me sailing across the room, but he relaxed quickly and gave me a wide, crooked grin as an apology.
"Dumbass, don't scare me like that." I noticed he was no longer protesting to being called 'sweetheart' which I marked as a victory on my behalf. I kissed his jaw softly as an apology, and he tilted his head to the side obligingly. Once again, I was struck by the sheer surprise that he was allowing himself to drop control in such a way. "Did you lock the door this time? I don't think my poor body can take another shock right now." I rolled my eyes at him.
"Neither you nor Hendricks will ever allow me to forget that, will you?" He snickered.
"Not on your life." I nodded.
"I suppose I'll just have to keep you quiet then, yes?" He stuck his tongue out at me, and then stretched up to kiss me, his lips annoyingly soft against mine, hardly no pressure behind them at all. I allowed my hand to slide behind his neck and hold him there, to pull him up a bit closer. He forced the kiss to remain determinedly chaste, and I sighed against his lips, because I could feel that same tingling wash of magic behind me, just starting to form that hurricane of pure sensation it had been before, and I wanted it there quickly. It seemed I'd have to loosen him up again, before it appeared. I'd noticed vaguely, before, that I could use it to decide what he enjoyed and what he didn't. It'd brush against me sweetly, when he was pleased, and harshly when he wasn't, which was truly a rather useful tool to have, in a situation like this. It'd have come in handy in many moments before, actually. I nipped his lip softly, and his mouth sighed open, his head tilting up and back for me.
His arms settled almost awkwardly on my shoulders, but then relaxed quite suddenly, and pulled me into him rather than the reverse. His dark eyes, flecked with blue, stared into mine for mere seconds, before they fluttered closed. I slipped away, and he mumbled against my lips, too close but not close enough.
"Stones, John, I don't know how you have a right to be jealous of the ones I've been with. You've obviously been with a hell of a lot more than me. You shouldn't be allowed to kiss that well. Makes me feel inadequate." I smiled against his mouth, and pressed a tiny kiss to the corner before I moved a bit farther away. I noticed that his chest was heaving a bit, his ribs starkly visible, and I truly would have to get him to eat a bit more, wouldn't I? A cherry flush rose to his cheeks as he noticed me looking.
"I assure you, you're perfectly fine. I'd not trade you for anything, Harry. Besides, darling, you're not the jealous type; I am." I paused to trail my fingers up his chest, to make the ticklish skin there twitch and shudder, before I stopped to tweak his pebbled nipples. He whined quietly, so quietly I thought it may've only been an illusion, before he jerked up into the touch once I tried to take it away. "This face you're showing now? Don't show it to anyone else. It's mine now, alright? Even if you go to another, this face is mine," I hissed softly, surprising even myself a bit. Harry rolled his eyes at me.
"I don't belong to you, John. Get that through your head." I smiled.
"No, Harry. You are mine, just as I am yours." He sighed.
"Bastard." His hands settled on my chest as I slipped my own down to his pants and undid them, smirking as he lifted his hips to help me shimmy them, and his underwear, off. His cock curved up towards his belly, and I wrapped my hand around it, twisting gently. His head fell back against the couch, and that magic raised like a wave, high and swooping over my head, before it crashed over top of me, seeming to trickle down my exposed flesh. His fingers traced nonsense patterns on my chest, a pentacle, a square, and even a heart, once. His eyes were somewhat glazed. One clumsy hand dipped down to my own slacks and started tugging at them, seeming to grow increasingly annoyed as the clothing did not disappear simply because he willed it so. Fearing a sudden introduction of fire to the proceedings, I used my free hand to swat his away and remove the things, which I threw across the room with the rest of our clothing. His eyes were fixated on the newly revealed skin, and I felt an irrational surge of pride as he licked his lips.
"Is it that nice, Harry?" He snorted.
"Nah. Just marveling at how tiny it is," he said, and the crooked grin split his lips again. It didn't have quite the same impact, when he was flushed red with glazed over dark eyes. Still, I returned the look with a sharp one of my own.
"Well, darling, if you feel that way, perhaps we could just stop, yes?" He shook his head and shrugged.
"Too far along for that now. May as well just finish this up, honestly. I don't like doing things half-assed." I twisted the hand on his dick, slid it up and down with far too little friction for it to actually do anything for him, and his hips stuttered up into me. He whined, and soft, low grown forcing its way out from between clenched teeth. I stopped and he stilled, panting, the flush spreading down his neck to add an attractive tint to the light expanse of his chest.
"Would it really kill you to admit you were attracted to me?" Another grin, this one a little hazier and with less bite behind it.
"Probably," he grunted. I sighed.
"I'll make you scream it then, sweetheart." His face screamed suddenly with expected challenge.
"As if you could." He reached out, and his fingers, long and graceful as the rest of him, wrapped around my dick. I gave as good as I got, and received a clumsy handjob and the soft weight of his pleased magic on my back as rewards. I attached my mouth to his neck and shifted us around as slowly as I could, so that he was lying on the couch beneath me, his feet hanging over the arm and my right leg hanging off the side uncomfortably. Still, I was far too distracted to be bothered by that. I sucked a mark where my mouth had settled, and his hands fell away from me, shuddering, his mouth slipping open in a whimper.
"Still so sure?" I mumbled against his skin. He didn't reply, instead pressing his hips up into mine. I snarled and shoved him back down with my own hips, pressed my weight against him to hold him still. He squirmed and struggled for a second or two, before he relented. "Floor," I finally said, after I grew bored of simply nipping and petting him. "There's not enough room here." He nodded, and I sat up. He scrambled to his feet and stumbled down to the floor, his legs sprawled out wantonly, cock hard and leaking. He saw me looking and wrapped his own hand around it, twisting and jerking, being far rougher with himself than I would've guessed he'd be. I crawled over to him and swatted his hand away. He bared his teeth and growled at me. I smiled and crouched down between his legs, running my fingers along the soft skin of his abdomen, lingering over a jagged scar that stretched vertically down it. "What's this?" I questioned, wanting to get him back talking. I liked how his voice sounded, just then, lust-drunk and dry.
"Cassius tried to kill me during the thing with the necromancers," he said. I crouched down and licked his cock as a reward, before taking it into my mouth. That ripped a scream out of him rather easily, which made me smile around him, and suck once, hard. His fingers grabbed at my hair and clutched as best he could, and his long spider's legs tensed and pulled up towards his chest whilst his magic settled over my back like the softest, warmest of blankets. I enjoyed the feeling, relished in it even, loved that for even a moment, I, and what I could do for him, were the center of his universe.
It had been a long time since I'd sucked a cock, but I supposed it was a bit like riding a bike. I could easily recall the technique most men enjoyed, and the taste was a sharp, shocking memory of days I'd thought long passed. It was a nice memory, I supposed, but the one I was making now, the stark realness of it, as well as the simple surrealism, were far more enjoyable to me. I slipped a finger down to his entrance and got it in with little resistance, although his drawn up legs fell flat beside me again. I noticed, quite suddenly, that he'd been chanting my name over and over, like an incantation, and with every utterance, the magic shroud I'd been gifted with pulsed and twitched. I licked him once, root to tip, and then let out a puff of air. He shivered and sighed.
"Beautiful," I whispered to him, "You're so fucking beautiful, and you don't even know it. Do you know how funny it is, Harry, to watch you when someone's flirting with you? It's so goddamned funny, Harry, until it isn't, and then it just pisses me off. I hate that you don't know how gorgeous you are just as much as I fucking love it, because that lack of knowledge just makes you that much more fucking lovely." I lost control of my tongue as I spoke, babbling and cursing like I never would otherwise. He seemed to enjoy it, though, or perhaps it was simply the attention. I always had thought him to be a bit starved of it.
"Sure you're not talking to yourself?" he croaked out. I put another finger inside him and stretched them wide. His legs fell loosely open and he groaned in a way that seemed trapped between pleasure and pain.
"Quite certain. You're the little doll, honey. The pretty little thing I'd keep on my shelf, if I thought there was any fucking chance you'd stay there. My pretty wizard. I hate that I have to share you with the rest of the world. I'd keep you all to myself, keep you fed and clothed and happy, and we'd save this whole motherfucking city together, Harry, one villain at a time." His hips canted back against my fingers, shifting and wiggling against me, and I went back to sucking him, to help him relax. It seemed to work, because some of the movement stopped, although he'd still twitch tiredly every now and then. I could feel it, when he was about to come, because he tightened around my fingers. I pulled my mouth off and instead wrapped my fingers around the base, stopping his orgasm in its tracks. He snarled out his frustration, slamming his fists against the floor and arching and twisting.
"What the hell, John?" he asked angrily.
"You cannot come yet." He hissed.
"Why the fuck not?" I smirked.
"Because I don't want you to." He whined out a 'stars and stones' but then seemed to have the energy drained right out of him.
"Fine, asshole. Do what you want with me." A spark of something stabbed through my heart and went straight to my cock. That wasn't something he should've said. He shouldn't have given me permission to whatever I wanted with him. I shuddered over top of him, and took a deep breath to calm myself.
"Alright, Harry. Loosen up, so I can finish stretching you." He nodded and did so, his muscles perfectly under his control. It was something of a byproduct of wizarding, I supposed. I couldn't imagine that such a skill was possible without control over one's body. I got the third finger in and stretched them, twisting inside of him and stroking wherever I could reach, seeking out his prostate. When I found it, he surged up again, trying to dislodge my hand, but I held it fast. He fell limp again as I moved my fingers away from the place, and instead avoided it steadfastly. He sighed.
"Damn it, John, I'm stretched plenty. Will you just do something already?" I shook my head.
"Say please." He shook his head.
"Fuck you. If I'd known you got off on it, I wouldn't have said it the first time over the phone." I laughed.
"I'll admit, it was a rather nice sound, you, who never asks for anything, saying please. I want to hear it again." I shifted my fingers to press into his prostate again, and this time kept them there. He scrabbled and squirmed and arched his back until it popped, both trying to get closet and to get away. I stayed where I was.
As expected, he held out for an impressively lengthy amount of time, but eventually, the sensation broke him.
"Please!" he finally yelled. I smirked.
"Please what, Harry? You really must be more specific."
"Screw you," he mumbled, "Please fuck me. Please, please, please, I want it. I want you inside me," he said, and I nodded.
"Good enough. I'll have to get you to be a bit more polite, later." I removed my fingers. "Roll over, please. It'll be a bit easier on you that way." He started to do so, and during that particular process, I stretched over to my pants to pluck the little tube of slick out. I poured it out and rubbed it over myself, the cold shocking me and making me sigh. I clicked the bottle shut and tossed it away, moved so I was behind him (and god, but I'd never imagined how nice he'd look on his hands and knees for me), then got inside of him. We moaned together, and he came suddenly, his body spasming around me as I slumped over him, having to fight not to come myself as his magic suddenly assaulted me, cutting through me, flowing around me, like a million fingers and mouths going everywhere at once. Harry seemed to fit me like a glove, like he was made for me, like I was made for him. I moved. His oversensitive body felt a little limp, his upper body collapsing onto the floor.
I held his hips with my hands, my blunted nails digging into his skin slightly as I fucked in and out, my own thighs tense and shaking. I didn't last nearly as long as I would've hoped. It was honestly a bit embarrassing, but Harry, who was hot as fire and blissed out beneath me, didn't seem to mind all that much. I felt his cock make a valiant attempt at growing hard again when I hit his prostate, and tiny, squeaking moans fell out of his mouth periodically, but beyond that, he seemed spent. He'd likely ruined my carpeting. I came hard within him, and as I did, my teeth sunk into the nape of his neck, another mark to match the two others I'd given him, and perhaps it was one he wouldn't notice, one he couldn't cover, so everyone could see that he was taken. I slid out as I softened, and fell backwards, pulling him with me to rest over my chest. He kissed it clumsily, wetly, and granted me a rare, real smile.
"Maybe not as little as I was saying earlier," he mumbled. I had to laugh again, my arms tight around his waist. I felt my come dribbling down his thighs and hitting mine. I knew it'd be far easier on us both to go clean up now, but I truly didn't feel up to it. I was tired and warm and pleased, and Harry seemed to be in a similar state, from the way he was now snoring quietly on top of me. I drifted off into a light sleep shortly after without even realizing I was doing it, Harry a warm weight on my chest, his magic hazing the air sweetly.
Harry's POV
I woke up warm and comfortable, yet also ridiculously sticky and uncomfortable. I was a little hazy on the details, but I was pretty sure that John was involved. Somehow, that asshole was always involved. I groaned. I ached in places that had never ached before, which was really saying something, in my line of work. John's chest was solid under my head, and I felt it more than heard it when he chuckled, his hands moving to settle in my hair and massage my scalp. I relaxed, some, for a few minutes, but eventually I forced myself up. My ass screamed at me in ways only my skull had been able to replicate. I glanced down at my knees and revealed that they were red and a little scraped in places, the same as my palms and my elbows. I glared at him. He just looked insufferably smug.
"John. I have rug burn. In all of my time spent having sex, which, admittedly, hasn't been all that long, neither I nor any of my partners have ended up with rug burn. Do you want to explain this?" John really looked like he was going to not laugh for all of two seconds. He gave up on the third second.
"Harry, you live in an apartment with a fireplace, and you're attempting to tell me you've never made use of it? My god, darling, I realize you've been somewhat… sheltered, in that regard, but that's just a bit silly. Not that I'd prefer you were promiscuous, as what we've just done wouldn't mean nearly as much to you if you were, but really." I shrugged.
"I'm not my brother, John. I've slept with an entire three people, and we used actual real life beds, like the barbarians we most certainly were. Also, how would you know whether or not I'm promiscuous? I could bar hop every weekend and sleep with random people." He smirked. I didn't like that look on his face. It was actually pretty worrying.
"Well, sweetheart, I know it was your first time with a man, at least with you on the bottom. Besides, you must recall that we've shared a Soul Gaze with one another upon our first official meeting. I saw your unique views on sex during that," he stated, before he paused thoughtfully and continued, "Although, I also saw just how much you wanted this," he finished, and then he reached out and grabbed my dick. The touch to the sensitive skin sent a spark of bright light flashing in front of my eyes. I hissed, and my eyes clenched shut for a second.
"Damn it, John, quit it. I really wish my soul would stop broadcasting my sex life to everyone. Now, how the hell are we going to get out of here and get cleaned up? I feel disgusting." He snorted, which sounded strange, from him. Of course, we were in a strange situation, and he also looked pretty strange himself, buck naked on the floor with mussed hair and lazy, sated, endless green eyes.
"I can have Hendricks clear the halls from here to my rooms. Give me a moment." He pulled himself up from the floor (his ass is also unfairly nice. I have no idea why he's so interested in mine if he can just look in the mirror at that), then plucked a cell phone from the inner pocket of his discarded jacket. He tried to turn it on and found it to be fried. He glanced at me with raised eyebrows. I smiled, maybe a bit spitefully. My ass hurt, okay? Like, a lot. He pursed his lips, and then came over to help me to my feet. I did at least spare him a grateful grin. "Get dressed. I'm afraid we'll have to be a bit uncomfortable." I stared at him.
"You ripped my shirt, bastard." He actually had the gall to look confused.
"Did I? My. You simply must stop me, if ever you find me getting a bit too violent. I can't help myself on occasion, I'm afraid." As if to prove his point, he absentmindedly grabbed my ass. "Just button your duster. I'm certain I have something you can put on, once you're clean." I wondered suddenly why
I even liked this asshole. I did, though, and I'd slept with him, so I guessed I was sort of stuck with him. Thomas was going to beat me and John both up, if he saw me within the next two weeks or so. Our auras would be completely tangled, at this point. I didn't even want to consider what Bob would say. I dressed as best I could, shoving my ruined shirt into one of my duster's inner pockets, and he did the same. We walked out together. Four of John's guys whistled at us, and seven gave John a thumbs up. He looked insufferably smug again. I glared at the floor the whole way back to his room. He tried to get into the shower with me, twice. I refused, because damn it, there was no way he was screwing me again until I could sit without a cushion. I told him as much, and he laughed the entire time I was bathing. When I got out, he had an outfit that was suspiciously in my size, and even more suspiciously fashionable.
"John, why do you have so many clothes around here that would fit me? You sent that box to my house, and now you have this shirt." He smiled as he began to strip, his muscle, made for function rather than show, shifting nicely, and I needed to stop getting distracted, didn't I?
"I already told you on the phone, didn't I? I would enjoy seeing you in things I've bought for you. Seeing as how you don't have any clean clothes here, I should think you'd not be protesting." I opened my mouth to argue, but he was right, damn him. I snapped it closed and got dressed as he went into his connected bathroom and the water started to run. He actually yelped. I smirked. I'd broken the hot water heater. Ha. My new clothes were pleasantly soft, though, and I was pretty sure the shirt was actually made of cotton instead of the ground sandpaper and steel wool mixture that most of my clothes had been produced with. I relaxed in his bed, large and covered in silk sheets and thick blankets that I wouldn't mind sleeping under a few times, if such a thing wasn't totally out of the question with him. I waited patiently, meaning I fidgeted a lot, until he got out of the shower. He smiled, his hair dripping on his face and spreading water droplets all over his unbuttoned button down, and climbed onto the bed beside me. "That is my side, by the way." I grinned.
"Too bad." He laughed and kissed my cheek, after which I blushed. Because I am a shy little maiden, obviously. We cuddled for a while, which was generating enough cognitive dissonance to power Chicago for at least three months, and then he had to go and ruin it by talking.
"I spoke with Vargassi, Harry. Why did your foster father owe them money?" I jumped at the sound of his voice, and suddenly decided that touching him was something I didn't want to do anymore. He was prying. I didn't want him to pry. I'd told him more at dinner that night than most people knew. Why did he have to know more?
"None of your business."
"Marco informed me that you'd been beaten, and that your hotel room was damaged. He also stated that you worked for them in one of their establishments, and that Tony was interested in you. Tell me what happened, Harry. I'd like to know if I should be upset." I sneered.
"Johnny, I get the shit kicked out of me every other week by things a lot stronger than vanilla mobsters. I don't think you need to worry about me not being able to take a couple of ass kickings from those fucks. Look, my foster father was a wizard. You know that, right? Hell, he wasn't even really my foster father, he was my Master. He hated vanilla mortals. That's why he took me and Elaine out of the school system. It's also why he never got an actual job. Still, he spent a lot of money. Eventually, he ran out of it, so he needed a loan. We didn't live in Chicago, back then. To be perfectly honest, I don't even remember where we did live, because I got moved around so much. I just know it was far enough away from Chicago that he figured he could get a nice dirty loan from there and safely dispatch the guys he was getting it from. I killed him before it was due, though, and I never knew anything about it. If I had, I probably wouldn't have moved to Chicago to begin with. They started coming after me when I was about nineteen or so. I didn't care about the beatings, because I'd taken worse before, but I was a little upset when they trashed my hotel room and had me foot the bill, when I was dirt broke then. I worked in one of their bars to pay the debt off, and Big Vargassi would chat with me sometimes." He raised his eyebrow at me, looking caught between angry and confused.
"Only his inner circle called him Big Vargassi, Harry. You shared more than casual conversation with him. He had you hurt, Harry! Why in the world would you do that?" I could tell what he thought I did, and I snarled at him for it. Did he think me that weak? Did he think that I'd click my heels and ask how high just because someone bigger than me said jump? Fuck him. I'd show him just how weak I was. I reeled back and punched him in the jaw. He winced, and it was satisfying whether it was from shock or pain.
"I thought you knew me, John. Was I wrong? I think I might've been. People who know me wouldn't think I'd go off and be bestest pals with someone who fucked with me. I hated him, John, him and his fucking son. I talked to him when he wanted me to so he wouldn't get any more pissed off at me. Most of the time he had me back there we were arguing anyway, because I wanted to keep my tips and he wanted me to work in some of his other places. If you fucking think that I'd just give myself up like that, you have no idea about me, and I think maybe I should leave." His hand pressed into the reddening mark on his face, and he winced again. I felt pride throbbing within me.
"I'm sorry," he said, and I could feel the sincerity. I held onto the anger anyway, because he'd done the exact opposite of what I'd asked, pried into things I'd long ago forgotten. "You're right. I shouldn't have continued picking at this when you so obviously didn't want me to. I was merely worried, Harry. After what just happened to you because of Torelli… Harry, I couldn't stand it if you were hurt simply because I didn't tie up my loose ends. I didn't have Torelli taken out because I didn't see him as a threat, and he tossed you into such a man's hands. The remaining members of the Vargassi family could've done the same. I will not stand for you being harmed because of my carelessness, Harry. I love you far too much for that." That… that was really cheesy. And apparently I liked cheesy, because I also thought it was kind of sweet. Damn it.
"John, I can take care of myself, I promise. I appreciate the sentiment and all, but my messes are my own, and I'll clean them up on my own. If I want help, I'll tell you, just like I always have. Beyond that, I think you should keep me and your business separate. I don't like it. You know I don't like it. You're a good man, John, but if you involve me, I don't know if I can just look the other way." He nodded, and his smile was tight and bitter.
"I understand. However, you'll have to give me some leeway. If you involve yourself in something large, I will be involved whether you want me to be or not. I won't stand idly by if you're in danger." I had to laugh.
"Yeah? Well, you're giving me the same leeway then. I'm not going to stand around and let you get hurt either, when your vanilla enemies come around, same with your supernatural ones." He gave me a large, predator grin I hardly expected, and I allowed myself to relax against him again. His arm wrapped tightly around my shoulders, and I guessed we understood one another. It was sort of nice to be on the same page with somebody. His hand pressed accidentally against the marks on my neck. I flinched a little. I'd have to attempt to get him out of the biting habit, though. I didn't think I could tolerate too awful many of those.
"Of course." He stretched up and kissed me softly, sweetly. I returned it.
"Thanks. Now, let's go get breakfast. I'm hungry." He snickered, and nodded.
"I'm forgiven, then?" I nodded.
"For now. Until you fuck up the next time. Which you will." His smile was bright, and his teeth were brilliantly white still. We stood and left the house, our hair still wet, and got more whistles on our way out, since his guys are obviously perverts. He brought me to IHOP as a peace offering, and I drowned whatever residual anger I may have had towards him in a million pounds of syrup. Thomas, being the most annoying big brother ever, marched proudly into the restaurant just then. His shriek nearly cleared the building, but he's pretty, so of course he didn't get kicked out. I say again, some guys have all the luck, and their names are never Harry Dresden.