I am back, my dudes. And with a new chapter in tow!
Things get a little... physical here in this chapter. And that's in more than one sense of the word.
They read in bed.
Or rather, Kate reads aloud from Dorian Gray while Tom listens, head in her lap. He interjects occasionally, to comment upon the characters or a theme, and sometimes she misses his query - she's too engrossed dissecting Dorian herself to offer a confident, conclusive opinion.
"Would you like to live forever?" She asks him, pausing somewhere around the fifth chapter.
"In this age and time," he looks up at her, "it seems like a very welcome offer." On a questioning look, she shuts the book, thinking over what her own answer would be.
"I want a fulfilling life - rather it be glorious and short than dull and long."
"What about memorable and eternal?" She smiles ruefully - there are some demands that seem a long reach but reasonable, and there are some that are better off left alone - not because they are unachievable , but because the means might burn you up in the process.
"Faust tells me otherwise."
His hand reaches for hers, fingers circling her knuckles. "Dorian and Sybil might not." He picks up the book and they switch places, and Kate curls up in the center of the bed with her head on his stomach while he reads, his slow, rich voice filling her up like chocolate. "Hungry?"
"Keep reading."
A while later, Tom gets up and moves out of the room, returning with a tray loaded with two filled plates, and they eat in silence before he puts the tray away and resumes his reading, her arms around him.
When she wakes up in the morning, Tom has been replaced by a note.
At work - shall see you in the evening. Don't start training without me .
She smiles at the latter part of the note and puts the piece of paper away, getting started on the mandatory reading for Auror candidates, then goes for a long run around the neighbourhood. It takes up most of her morning and by the time Kate returns home, the sun is out there, blazing in full afternoon glory.
And so becomes her routine.
She wakes up every morning to a fresh, crisp piece of paper, Tom's sharp, looping handwriting writing the same sentence every day, along with a new question to keep her brain whirring. It's usually a small detail from a segment she's read a day or so back but probably forgotten by the time she reads the note.
Then, a long run to keep the fitness level sufficient to clear the physicals, which ends sometime around eleven. The rest of the afternoon goes in preparation of lunch and by one, she's at the dinner table, scribbling notes on a notebook with a pen while a plate of food lies half eaten.
As the sun sets upon the house, she finds Tom leaning on the closest doorway, eyebrows cocked in expectation of an answer.
Today, she doesn't have one.
"Well, we had set down certain terms in case of defeat, hadn't we?" His smirk stretches all the way up to his eyes, the latter alight with wicked mischief.
"I honestly have no idea about curse breaking on jewelry - what part of the textbook did you extricate this one from?"
"I might have violated my end of the deal on that one - you see, this is something I picked up at work, and thought would be useful for you." Her face flushes in annoyance - the shame of her defeat gives way to dull irritation of him cheating.
"And how was I supposed to know this?"
"You knowing it would have been impressive."
"So you violated our terms for what, may I know? Not that I don't appreciate you making the effort and of course, gaining new knowledge in the course of that."
"To better prepare you. And to be able to give you this." Tom pulls out a small box from his trousers, placing it in her palm. Kate flips the lid open, a dull, silvery watch looking up at her. "Happy 18th, Miss Summers. Given that you should've had one a year ago, but I understand the circumstances. Besides, platinum looked better than gold anyways."
"This," she struggles for words, eyes fixated on the object, "is wholly, utterly -"
"Necessary, and I shall not accept the contrary as an answer." She pulls it out of its case, the thin strap holding a small, yet intricate dial. He slips it on her left wrist, his hands busy fastening the buckle while his head rests on her shoulder. "And the answer is maledicta expulso . Now, to training, shall we?"
"I won't go easy on you," she grumbles, fighting the smile that threatens to cover her face as he walks off.
"Wouldn't dream of it," the cheery reply floats up from the basement.
This time, it's a lot more bloody - she has a small cut on her lip and a nasty bruise on her temple from being thrown face-first into a wall and he has a stinging gash on his arm from a hex. They head upstairs after that, summoning the first aid kit as she shuts the door behind her. It's dark already and they head upstairs, Kate mentally ordering her tasks for tomorrow.
His arm is quickly patched up, and Tom is dabbing at her forehead when he suddenly stops, his eyes boring into her face.
"What?" she quirks an eyebrow.
"You," his voice is tight, but not really from sadness. It's a lot more different, something she has never really expected or heard before.
"Me what? I did what now?"
"Good Merlin," he mutters before taking his face in his hands, pulling her into a kiss. And this time, it isn't soft or caring - it's hungry, enunciated further as he pulls her into his lap.
It makes her insides burn - not in the agonising hurt like a wound, but what that feels like sparks and electricity dancing through her veins. She wraps her arms around his neck as he runs his thumb down to her clavicle, biting down on her lip. The action elicits a whimper from her as her legs wrap around his torso, her heart thundering against her ribcage, her blood roaring in her ears.
If this alone electrifies me, anything beyond this would burn me up .
"What was the point in patching my lip up?" She utters in the brief break in contact, forehead resting on his as her back presses against the headboard of the bed.
"So I could mark you as mine," he rumbles, voice hoarse and heavy and in no way answering her question. He kisses her neck slowly, lips dragging up to her ear. "Mine alone to worship."
"What sort of worshipping is this?"
His eyes are dilated, his features a cross between desire and reverence, and she gets her answer in the kisses he places along her throat, her heart singing while she wills every nerve in her body not to combust.
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