For the January jilychallenge. Prompt: lily gets kidnapped and james storms in on the death eater headquarters to get her back because it just got pERSONAL you bastards
She stumbles in, weighed down by shopping bags and wondering whether it's too early for a gin and tonic. Probably: it's not yet four in the afternoon, and although it's a Saturday, she tries not to drink before six unless at a wedding. Or a funeral. Or a christening. Or if it's a particularly hard week.
But the week hasn't been too bad, all things considered, and sadly they had no invitations to speak of, hence the trip to Tesco for many things that were on James' carefully curated list and several things that really weren't, but which seemed to jump into her basket of their own accord.
Her stance on drinking changes, though, when she pauses in the hallway to shed her coat and kick off her shoes, and hears the dulcet tones of her fiancé's best friend/brother/professional nuisance, Sirius Black. He sounds like he's in the throes of one of his tall tales, and those usually drive her to booze no matter what time of day it is.
"—and you turn to me, all angry, and say, fuck no, now it's personal, and—hey Lil!" Sirius catches sight of her as soon as she enters the living room, moving to help her with her bags before James can even turn around from his prone position on the sofa. "Did you buy any snacks? I'm starving."
Lily merely raises her eyebrow at him. "Lovely to see you too, Sirius."
"Yes, yes, hi—crisps! Great." He sweeps the bag he is rifling through into the kitchen, where anything he might be saying is drowned out by the rustling of foil-coated packaging. James barely has time to pull himself off the sofa, press a quick kiss to her cheek and take the remaining bags from her grip before Sirius returns, one hand buried in the bag of salt and vinegar crisps she'd been hoping to demolish herself. "So anyway, you said, now it's personal, and you stormed in there before I could stop you—"
She sighs, moving to the nearest armchair. "What on earth are you talking about…?"
James reappears with a smirk. "He dreamed about us last night," he says, and holds up the extra-large 'sharing' bag of chocolate buttons that she had hoped he wouldn't notice. "Went off-list again, did we?"
She ignores him, turning back to Sirius with a concerned look. "You dreamed about us?" she asks. "Should I be nervous…?"
"Not like that, you perve," he waves a dismissive hand. "It was quite scary, actually. You'd been kidnapped—"
"I would never get kidnapped," she interrupts. "Too noisy. Too much trouble."
"Maybe you being trouble was why you got taken in the first place," Sirius shoots back. "Anyway. You got kidnapped, and James got all angry and stormed in to where they had hidden you, even though it was dangerous and I tried to stop him—"
"You wouldn't let him rescue me?!" She glances up at James as he passes on his way back to the sofa; he offers her a wink. "Some friend you are!"
"I was concerned for him, he was acting so recklessly and with scant regard for his own safety, and also, it was a dream, so relax." He's getting irritable now: he hates being interrupted, something Lily is all too aware of and likes to play against him whenever necessary. And sometimes when it isn't. "So he storms in and like fucking murders all these creepy kidnappers who are wearing cloaks and masks for some reason—"
"Must be the latest kidnapper fashion," James smirks.
"—and you're tied up in the corner looking pathetic, and he rescues you and sweeps you away, and then…" Sirius pauses to crunch on a crisp. "And then Lil, you said you wanted to show your appreciation physically, and thankfully that was when I woke up."
"Relieved to hear it didn't turn into a sex dream, Pads," James nods. "And I really doubt that Lily would be so un-traumatised that she'd be ready to shag straight after being rescued."
Lily doesn't say anything; she's too busy wondering if that's true.
She's still wondering, later, after all the crisps are gone; after Sirius invites himself to stay for a Chinese takeaway; after they finish watching yet another film where someone must save someone else under some kind of dubious time pressure. Still wondering, as they sit in bed, James with glasses slid to the end of his nose and thumbing through a tattered paperback copy of The Count of Monte Cristo; Lily, attempting to reply to various texts from Mary and Dor, but more often than not just staring at her phone, staring and not truly seeing.
He notices, of course. She doesn't think there's anything she could do—or not do—that he wouldn't notice.
"You alright, love?" She glances over at him; he has abandoned his book, nothing to mark the page, and is watching her with caution. "You've been a bit…quiet."
"I'm okay," she promises, and it's true. There's nothing wrong per se. Just…a busy mind. "Really."
He frowns a little—she's always liked the way he gets a little crease between his brows when he frowns, the sort of thing that shouldn't be attractive but really, somehow, is—and reaches for her hand. "You know you can talk to me."
She sets aside her phone, rolling on to her side to face him; he mirrors her movements, those familiar hazel eyes settling on her face, concern still shining there. "I know I can," she assures him. "It's going to sound… stupid, now. It is stupid."
That piques his interest. "I bet it isn't."
"Really stupid," she amends, and pauses. "You know…Sirius' dream…?"
This is clearly not what he is expecting. His eyebrows raise. "You really can't listen to all his nonsense, Lil," he tells her. "It was just a dream, you know none of us think of you as a helpless damsel in distress type."
"No. I know." She pauses; lets her hand drift forward, idling on his chest, in the soft jersey of his t-shirt. "That's…not my point."
He's far too attractive when he's confused. To be fair, he's far too attractive almost all of the time. (Not attractive: when he wakes her I too early to go for a run; when she's in a particular type of grump—there are grumps, of course, when she finds him very attractive, which only makes her more grumpy; when he's throwing up from too much vodka with the boys again. That's it. Those are the only times.) "Okay…so, what is your point?"
She pauses; meets his gaze. "I thought it sounded…" She sighs, aware of how much of a cliche this makes her. "It sounded hot."
James' eyebrows shoot back up, but he has that intrigued glint in his eyes, a bit like last year when she had admitted to a rather erotic him-as-teacher, her-as-naughty-student dream. It's a look which holds promise. "Yeah?" he prompts, his voice already taking on a husky quality.
"Yeah," she echoes; her fingers tangle at his shirt collar as his hand finds its way to the dip of her waist. "Really hot."
She knows she's distracting him now: he's so sweetly predictable that way. His fingers find the strip of bare skin between her top and her pyjama shorts, an absent-minded, gentle touch which shouldn't set her on fire as much as it does. His eyes seem almost glazed as he considers her words. "Well," he says, and smiles, "which part does it for you? Being swept away from the baddies?"
She thinks it over, giving it due respect and thought. These things are important. "Obviously, the being kidnapped part is not sexy," she says. "But being tied up…you coming along and showing me how strong and brave you are…saving me…"
"Baby," he murmurs, leaning in to dot a kiss to her neck. "I'll always come and save you…"
"Mm," she smiles fondly; her fingers tangle in his hair. "And that is a turn-on, too. Another for the list."
"There's more?" he asks; he has found his way under her top, now, his hands skimming past her ribs on the way to tracing delicate paths round her breasts. Her breath catches deliciously. "Aside from my ruggedness and strength?"
Her eyelids flutter closed, and she is somehow closer to him even still, her legs tangling with his. "Your devotion," she mumbles, and guides his lips towards hers. "Now that is as hot as fuck…"
She once had a boyfriend, back in secondary school, whose kisses left her cold. She'd just wanted the status symbol of being in a relationship and hadn't been particularly interested in the boy himself: he was boring. Even snogging, something she'd later find very enjoyable, had been dull.
Not so with James. Every kiss sends shivers down her spine; he somehow finds new ways to light her up every time, as if they haven't been doing this, a variation of this, for years now. This time, his focus seems to be on turning her to mush in his arms: his lips, after a thorough effort at her mouth, trail off down her jaw and neck in sublime coordination with the way his fingers trail down her body, peeling back her shorts to slip between her legs.
"Lucky for me," he murmurs, and she's so driven to distraction by each gentle brush of his thumb, by the feeling of her teeth grazing at the curve of her neck, that she takes a few moments to remember what they have even been talking about. "That you find devotion so sexy…" He pauses, a simple flick of the wrist eliciting a gasp from her lips that feels like it fizzes out of her, unstoppable as the tide. "Because Lil…" His fingers work their usual magic, although nothing about it feels standard, feels ordinary. He riles her up with an ease that only serves to make her more aroused; if she had the strength in her limbs, if they weren't reduced to jelly already, she would round on him, swing herself over his body and ride him into oblivion, until they both saw stars.
Later. That can come later.
"...I'm devoted to you," he finishes, moving his focus from her neck back to her lips, drawing out a kiss as his fingers twist and flick, drawing her closer to the edge, to the precipice of something that will ruin her in the best possible way. In fact, she can reflect later, it's not just his movements, expert as they are, that bring her there, but his words, too; the lingering idea of that devotion, so strong he would battle past certain death to rescue her, if she needed him to.
She doubts she ever will. But it's nice to know, just in case.
She comes with a cry of his name, clutching his t-shirt in one hand, fingers of her other hand buried in his hair; he watches her, drinking in every sound and every sight, and she loves him for it, for every generous inch of him, for his constancy and adoration and willingness to listen to her strange fantasies.
She kisses him lazily, body still awash with pleasure; he expects nothing, of course, another thing she loves him for, although he's kidding himself if he thinks he won't be getting his end away tonight too. "You know," she sighs, and feels his smile against her lips; she has hardly said anything yet, and he's already responding like she has made his day. "Maybe I don't need to be tied up, as such…"
"No?" His body presses against hers, lean muscle and a pure kind of heat that stirs something again, deep in her belly. "So I don't need to nip down to B&Q for some rope?"
She can't help her own smile. "Nah," she replies. "You do pretty well without it."
Two days later, Sirius arrives for dinner, and is confused when Lily asks, eyes wide and innocent, "Had any good dreams lately?"