Hoodwinked
A/N - For all-things-jily's birthday
She'd transfigured her hair into a black pixie cut that tickled her chin with every step she took.
She'd also increased her height by two inches, altered the shape of her face to bring out sharp cheekbones and a defined nose, and changed her eye colour to a deep brown. But it was the hair—the missing length of it, the dark new shade, the unfamiliar texture when she slipped her fingers through it—that really startled Lily every time she caught her reflection on a glass surface. She kept the surprise from showing on her face, of course, and without much difficulty at that; controlling her expressions was an art form she'd perfected at the young age of twelve, when she'd realized that this world was no place for her vulnerability to be exposed in.
A warm touch against the small of her back melted the obvious tension coiled in her spine, and she surreptitiously glanced sideways at the man descending the staircase next to her. He was of the tall sort—dark eyes, frizzy brown hair, confident gait—yet it was not a face that she recognized. With a simple blink in response, she gave him a wide berth so that he could walk ahead of her, leading the path to the raucous sounds emanating from the pub below them.
The Veela's Dance was a popular haunt amongst the pureblood echelons of the Wizarding society, requiring special invitation cards to be presented upon arrival for entry to any guest. The invites, incidentally enough, were only granted when one sealed their blood into the card and allowed the magic inside it to provide them access once it had confirmed their pureblood status. It was completely revolting, to be sure. Thankfully enough, Moody had procured her the invite as well as a tiny vial of blood, with simple instructions to disguise herself as best as possible and to not "fuck things up."
She hadn't inquired as to how he'd retrieved the blood sample, nor from whom; she positively hadn't wanted to know back then, and, if possible, she wanted to know it even less now, disgusted as she felt playing this part, mingled within a sea of pureblood bodies.
But it was easy—almost a bit too easy—as the crowd swallowed her whole, the smile on her face saccharine and indulging as she floated around the room, chatting with wizards old and young, quiet and loud, and all of them some or the other brand of vile. With a little practice, she wore the name handed to her by Moody—Wisteria Wenlock, distant niece of renowned Arithmancer, Sylvie Wenlock, who incidentally now resided in Egypt, where she'd relocated over five years ago for research and had never returned—almost effortlessly.
And yet, it was only several hours later, after she moved to lean against the cool bar counter to escape the stuffiness of the room that Lily felt like she could pull in anything resembling a relieved breath. With a bored look, the bartender passed her an elegant glass full of sparkling red liquid when she waved him over. The sip she took was plentiful, the bitter taste of alcohol sloshing in her mouth and then burning down the linings of her throat as she swallowed with a tiny grimace. But the unpleasant sensation felt immediately worth it when the pounding in her head dulled a bit, the constant thrum of irritation and fury swimming under her veins becoming sluggish as comfortable heat spread through her limbs.
She raised the glass to her lips for another taste, only to find a larger, warmer hand reach out and delicately pull it out of her grasp.
"What—"
"Careful there," said the familiar voice, and Lily's stomach gave a characteristic lurch at the deep timbre. Her eyes followed the man from earlier as he rounded her stool, gaze barely brushing over her form as he moved to stand on her left, a respectable distance away. "Can't have you getting drunk."
"I know that," she muttered, biting the corner of her lip. With concerted effort, she made herself look away. "Just wanted to get away for a bit. Can I have my glass back, please?"
He didn't respond; simply leaned his hip against the counter and pointedly drank from her glass.
Bastard.
Lily exhaled a heavy, annoyed scoff, placing knuckles against her rapidly warming cheek. "You aren't supposed to be talking to me."
"It's alright," he said, and made it a point to raise his brows, eyes surreptitiously flitting left to indicate that the bartender was busy attending to other wizards. "We're just engaging in polite conversation. No one's paying us any attention." He squinted his eyes thoughtfully. "Well, not to me, at least. You, on the other hand, sitting here alone—"
"Careful there," she echoed, voice flat, and then lowered. "I don't look like myself right now."
A smirk curled over the man's lips; the gesture gut-slammingly familiar even on an unfamiliar face.
"I don't count." He shrugged. "I'm always paying attention to you, regardless of how you look."
It was an effort indeed to keep her expression blank, unaffected, even as smugness rolled over his entire demeanour clear as day. But Lily wasn't stupid enough to fully brush off his words from earlier; she knew she was certainly pulling some attention, being an unaccompanied witch—not to mention one of the only few witches—at a gathering like this. And reacting strongly to a man, whether negatively or positively, and especially to this man, around whom tempering her emotions was even more of a challenge, was just not an option.
Skin prickling, she crossed one knee over the other, expensive dress robes shifting to reveal the thigh-high slit of her burgundy dress, and she caught the exact moment when his eyes dived to the swath of skin her movement exposed.
"Cruel," was all he said, looking away and taking another sip of the drink, tension locked in his jaw.
Satisfaction purred in her chest even as she remained outwardly unsmiling, and she could have probably gone on to contribute more to their little game had her gaze, at that very moment, not caught onto a specific person across the room. Cursing under her breath, Lily got off the stool with a graceful swish of her robes, trying not to be too blatant about the urgency buzzing beneath her skin.
"Your ten o'clock," she whispered to the man as she neared him, and his eyes—brown instead of the hazel she was used to—widened imperceptibly. "School the expression, Potter. You're making it obvious."
The way James's mouth curled right then—whether at her utterance of his name or the chiding itself, she couldn't be sure—Lily knew he wanted to respond with a wisecrack to her comment, but they didn't have time, and so he let her walk past with nothing more than a subtle incline of his head and a final swig of his—her—drink.
The plan was simple in theory but a dangerous gamble in reality: they had to locate Valko Gamp, Head of Floo Network Authority at the Ministry of Magic, who—they had good reason to believe, at least as per Moody—was an alleged Death Eater infiltrating the system. Considering the kind of party Gamp was attending, however, Lily supposed there was nothing alleged about that accusation anymore.
He was not a frequently photographed wizard, so it had taken the Order a couple of days to get a visual of the man; blonde, stocky, with a square-shaped face and a small but prominent scar on his upper lip. Fortunately for them, Gamp seemed to have placed a blind amount of trust in the security of The Veela's Dance, for there was evidently no transfiguration involved in trying to mask his appearance, making the process of identifying him in the crowded pub only a little too easy.
If their sources were right, Gamp held in his possession the entire gamut of information on how the Death Eaters were steadily spreading their webs over the floo network. And while neither Lily nor James were particularly fond of the tactic, Moody had informed them that the quickest way to save lives here would be through the administration of Veritaserum, a tiny vial of which resided inside James's dress robes currently.
Although, the next step of their mission—that's where things had the potential to get tricky.
Lily watched as the wizard, swaying and drunk-faced, made his way towards the men's loo, seemingly without company. One fleeting, barely-there shared glance with James later, she was cutting through the sea of bodies, relaxed smile once more affixed on her mouth, stopping to leisurely greet people as she passed by, like she had all the time in the world to be schmoozing and networking here. The song pounding through the walls of the pub changed to a new, popular track by The Hobgoblins, resulting in a crest of cheers from the gathered audience, and from a distance, she watched as James slipped inside the loo in tandem with the noise, entirely unnoticed.
Exactly three beats later, two wizards exited the loo, their laughter drowned out by the music. She held her breath, waited, but the door remained unmoving.
They were alone, then.
Heart pounding somewhere in the vicinity of her skull, Lily positioned herself against a wall nearby, the impassive tilt of her mouth belying the ball of anxiety knotting steadily in her stomach and growing bigger as the seconds ticked by. She snatched a flute of champagne from a tray nearby to have something to do with her hands and not look completely out of place standing next to the toilets by herself. How much that image helped, she couldn't tell, because she still felt paranoia creep up her spine like a pestering insect; unwelcome but relentless; surely, people could tell there was something wrong with her; surely, they'd identify her from the stench of her nervousness alone.
The spiralling thoughts came to a crashing halt when she noticed Antonin Dolohov—former classmate, known Death Eater, confirmed sadist—lumbering forward in the direction of the loo with nauseating arrogance radiating from his every move. Adrenaline pumping wildly in her veins, Lily made herself push off the wall and walk towards him, mind caught firmly on the door behind her and how, under no circumstances, could she risk this wankstain of a wizard jeopardizing their mission by interrupting James's interrogation efforts.
When he saw her approaching with a coy smile, Dolohov's pale, long face turned smug, dark eyes glassy but pleased.
"Antonin Dolohov, isn't it?" Lily greeted, standing close enough that she felt suffocated by the waft of Firewhiskey clinging to his form. "I've heard so much about you. What a pleasure to finally meet you here."
"Wenlock, right?" His eyes were just shy of dropping straight out of their sockets and inside her neckline. "I saw you around earlier. Was wondering when I'd have the honour of an introduction."
"Seems like you've already received one from the look of things. Nonetheless—" Lily extended her right arm, firmly keeping the grimace that wanted to erupt on her face in check when he took her hand, brushed his lips over her knuckles. "Wisteria Wenlock. I'm in London for a few weeks on official business. Thought I'd stop by at some of the more…refined establishments while I was here to let off some steam."
"Good eye." Dolohov smirked, thumb stroking over her palm. A muscle twitched in her arm, as if recoiling in horror, but she made herself hold steady. "You can call me Antonin. I'm a regular here."
Merlin, she wanted to throw up.
"Happy to hear that." Lily made a show of raising her glass of champagne to her lips, both disgusted and relieved that his attention seemed to be caught firmly on her. "What—ah—what do you do, Antonin?"
His eyes glittered as if she'd asked something amusing, and perhaps, Lily thought darkly, she might as well have. "Come now, Wenlock—" and here, his fingers traversed higher, over the sleeve of her velvet robes, skimming elbow and upper arm. "Do we really want to discuss work right now?"
"No, I suppose not," Lily found herself saying, grin stuck to her face like bitter jaggery even as she gently stepped away from the touch. "Maybe we should talk about your upcoming marriage instead. Congratulations—I read in the paper, about you and Cossette Burke."
Something dark flashed in Dolohov's gaze at her stupid daring, and Lily considered, for a second, that maybe she had truly overstepped; maybe her revulsion and fury at this man would be what ruined their mission in the end. Mercifully enough, he blinked, and the expression was wiped clean; replaced by a smile that was more intrigued now, instead of the lecherous one earlier.
"Thank you. I see you've been keeping up on your news." He slipped his hand back into the pocket of his robes. "However, I'd advise you to not go around mentioning what you know to everyone you meet."
"Hardly that naïve, Antonin."
"No, you don't seem like the type. In fact—oh!" Dolohov's voice cut off with an irritated exhale as someone bumped roughly against his shoulder on their way past. Lily's stomach twisted at the sight of the familiar figure, the curly brown hair, the tilt of the man's mouth as he turned to look down at Dolohov with a faux-regretful expression. Merlin, he was an idiot. "Watch it."
"Ah, terribly sorry, mate," said James, seeping just enough sincerity into his voice to be not called out on his bullshit apology. He splayed out a hand to gesture at the crowd around them, chuckled good-naturedly. "Too many people here. Hard to keep from jostling about, especially when you've had a drink too many."
Dolohov sneered, eyes assessing him for a beat or two before turning away. "It's fine."
"Cheers." James clapped him on the shoulder, perhaps more firmly than necessary, and glanced at her for a fleeting second, head inclined, seemingly in greeting. "Evening, Wenlock."
Lily unglued her tongue from the roof of her mouth. "Brown."
And then he was gone without another word or look back, and she felt her heartbeat settle down to a manageable level once more.
"Bit of a fucking simpleton, isn't he?" Dolohov muttered a moment later.
"Yeah. Probably just doesn't know how to handle his alcohol."
"Shouldn't disgrace himself like that by drinking at all, in that case."
There were a lot of things she wanted to say about what actions exactly counted as disgraceful and repulsive and how he needed to go fuck himself instead of getting off on a misplaced sense of his own high societal standing and propriety when he was practically tripping over himself to cheat on his equally abhorrent fiancée, but—
In her right periphery, Valko Gamp sauntered into view, and Lily watched him walk around with a slightly dazed expression on his face, but otherwise looking relatively unharmed and in no hurry to start yelling about being attacked in the loo anytime soon. Confunded, if she had to guess, and bloody good spell-work there too, no doubt.
"That's right," she said, voice a little faint, and somehow managed to draw out a beatific smile even as the rest of her screamed at her to get out. Now. "I'm afraid I must excuse myself, Antonin. I'd promised Melvin Bulstrode I'd find him to discuss my research before I left the party."
Dolohov looked slightly surprised by the quick farewell, but didn't put up much of a fight, his gaze jumping to the door several feet behind her, and Lily remembered, with a sudden jolt, that he had been on his way to the loo when she'd roped him into the conversation. And predictably, he cut a purposeful path in that general direction once they took off in their separate ways. Nonetheless, by virtue of the excuse she'd trapped herself in, Lily swept her eyes around the room until she spotted Bulstrode, feet carrying her over to him so she could spend the next ten minutes talking about Arithmancy and numerology and some such hogwash without giving away the anxiousness that broiled underneath her skin, in the erratic beat of her pulse.
It was nearing eleven at night by the time she polished off her third glass of champagne and made her way towards the staircase she had descended earlier in the evening. It took considerable effort on her part to keep her footsteps even and pace leisurely, for it wouldn't do to garner any sort of suspicion to herself if Gamp, at any point in time, decided to start pointing fingers. She wasn't particularly concerned about James; with a forgettable face and a common name like Boris Brown, no one would think to find the drunk, awkward wizard he'd embodied that evening as threatening.
Still, as per the plan set out by Moody, James was to return to the Order once he'd gathered the information to mitigate any potential risk of getting caught, while Lily—well, she'd have to spend the night in one of the rooms rented out by The Veela's Dance for guests who required lodging after the party.
Or, if she was being perfectly honest—and crude—for those who wanted to shag.
Back straight and smile pinned, Lily climbed up the first flight of stairs, the second, finally stopped on the landing that yawned open into a floral-wallpapered corridor, housing four rooms in total—two on either side. It was only after she fetched her key from within the pocket of her robes, entered her room, closed the door, and cast silencing and protective spells on the threshold that she finally, mercifully, was able to expel a shuddering breath of relief, wand swishing to undo the transfiguration she'd worn all night.
With a soft thump, she let her head drop against the wood of the door, body curving forward with exhaustion and misery. The dark red waves of her hair had barely settled between her shoulder blades, however, when the soft pressure of two hands pressing at her waist from behind jolted her out of her skin.
Gasp tearing through throat, Lily had her wand whipped out and pointed over her shoulder in a flash; spell teetering on the tip of her tongue, eyes wide enough to burn.
"Relax," chuckled a warm voice at her ear, sprinkling goosebumps around her neck. "It's me."
"What the fuck—" The tension slowly eased from her shoulders, head leaning back to find the comfort of a solid, warm chest. And though the pounding behind her rib cage had yet to calm down, Lily released the wand from her fingers; let it clatter onto the floor, unneeded now. "You gave me a fucking fright, you wanker. How are you here? What about Gamp—"
"Taken care of. Obliviated. And Confunded for good measure." The grip slipped to her hips. "Figured I'd make good use of the cloak."
"And Moody—"
"Well, obviously the mission is taking a bit longer," he said softly, fingers sweeping away the hair gathering at her neck with a butterfly touch.
Lily's pulse thundered, the thrill erupting at his words too reckless, too delicious, and wholly a result of his direct influence on her. "Seriously, James. I almost hexed you to next week just now."
He took a step forward, tenderly pressing her front against the door, brushing warm lips against the curve of her neck, no doubt realizing she hadn't protested his presence here.
"Honestly you should," he whispered. "I could be an imposter, you know."
That had her spine stiffening immediately, discomfort and fear roiling in her belly at the mere thought of such carelessness—
"Relax," he repeated, chest rumbling slightly against her back as he hummed, mouth continuing to brush kisses up the column of her neck, the shell of her ear, the contact warm and soft and familiar. "How about I name all the places at Hogwarts we've shagged in? Will that be proof enough? Or—" he continued before she could respond, one hand rising up to find the clasp of her dress robes, unhooking and pulling the fabric off her shoulders. "Maybe I can remind you how I tasted you till you were screaming my name on our couch last night."
Lily's thighs clenched at the words, liquid pooling into knickers at the memory alone; the heat of the flames from their fireplace toasting her skin, the spread of her legs over James's shoulders, the unfairly carnal visual of his hair between her legs, his mouth moving against her—
Desire was quick to flood her mouth. With parted lips, she snaked a hand around until her fingers curved around the back of James's neck. A glance over her shoulder had her meeting darkened hazel eyes and a more-familiar-than-her-own, well-loved face. There was more than a small part of her that was glad that he'd taken off his transfiguration, too.
"Stop teasing me," she said, fingernails lightly scraping against scalp as she let her hand disappear into the unkempt black of his hair. "I'm too wired up for it right now."
"Think I can help with that," murmured James, moments before he leaned down to let his lips slide over hers.
The press of his mouth was immediately firm and unrelenting, the warmth of his breath lightly fanning across her cheeks as they changed angles a sensation she cherished entirely too much. James made quick work of discarding the outer layer of her robes as he chucked them aside, his other hand curving wholly around her waist to bring her back flush against his front, where she could feel him hardening steadily as she ground into him, starved for some sort of friction.
"Fuck, Lily."
She moaned quietly, his mouth wet-hot and tasting faintly of the drink he'd stolen from her downstairs when she slipped her tongue past his lips; sweet, intoxicating, utterly mind-numbing. Blood pounded in her ears, heating the skin around her face and neck and chest when James's left arm travelled diagonally across the front of her body, wrist pressed against the drum of her heart and hand cupping around the swell of her breast.
"Touch me," she complained against his mouth, brows threading, kiss turning sloppy from the angle, the frenzy, the rough movements everywhere else. "Merlin, James, just touch me, I—"
"Shh," He broke off from her mouth to whisper the words against her temple. "I've got you, love."
Lily's eyes fluttered shut in growing anticipation as his right arm uncoiled from around her waist to bunch up the velvet skirt of her dress, the cloth folding over his wrist like an accordion as he reached beneath to skim fingers against the tops of her thighs. A sigh filtered out of her when James licked at the sweat-damp skin beneath her earlobe, other hand slipping inside the deep neckline at her chest, thumb and forefinger finding and rolling a peaked nipple only to have her aching even more for him between her legs.
When an anguished moan tore up her throat to voice this torment, he nuzzled at her cheek until she half-turned her face for him to capture her lips again—about the same time as his fingers under her skirt finally breached the borders of her thin knickers to find the aroused heat that had gathered in her centre. Lily's grip at the nape of his neck tightened, teeth pulling at his bottom lip; the sensation of those long, callused fingers sliding over pulsing, intimate skin enough to have her knees turning unsteady, sense scrambling.
But James held her steady, caught between his chest and the door as his palm continued to knead her breast, shifting occasionally to the other one as he pulled away to breathe hard into the space between them.
"Fuck, Lil, you're so fucking ready for me already."
He swirled his forefinger in her wetness as if to prove the point.
She was losing her mind; she was certain about it. "Have been, since the bar."
He groaned. "Good. Because I haven't been able to stop thinking about getting you alone since then."
She might have had a reply to that, but it evaporated without trace when his thumb began drawing circles against her clit; the bundle of nerves already swollen with need.
"Oh my God, yes, keep doing that—"
Behind her, James grunted hoarsely, hips moving as he rubbed his erection against her backside, and Lily's free hand clamped around the defined muscles of his forearm as his fingers crawled up from her breast, sternum, neck, to brush against her lips. Understanding what he needed, she immediately opened her mouth, sucking in two of his fingers, tongue rolling wetly over them, heart pounding like it wanted to escape the confines of her body. She could imagine him picturing her mouth wrapped around his length in a similar manner, and the image of that was more than effective in driving her properly insane.
"You're bloody perfect—Merlin, I—" James's mumbling broke off, head dropping onto her shoulder with a wordless shake, and Lily whimpered in pleasure when he slipped a finger inside her, then two, sheathing them up to his knuckles.
It was almost ridiculous how quickly she felt herself nearing the edge, all sensations centred around James's hands on her, his mouth at her neck, his tongue on her skin. Combined with the adrenaline that had simmered in her blood the whole evening and the want for him that always accompanied such dangerous missions, she soon found herself clutching onto his arm tightly, other palm planting hard against the door as her body all but shook in tandem with the building pressure.
His fingers slipped from her mouth, trailing a wet path over her lips and chin as they returned to pinch and tease her nipples lazily.
"Fuck, fuck, yes—"
But suddenly, she was being spun around, his hand disappearing from between her legs without warning. Lily nearly cried in outrage at the pause, but James didn't give her the time to do anything more than let out a tortured "What—" before he was on his knees and lifting the skirt of her dress.
"I want to feel you come on my mouth," he explained, cheeks stained red and pupils blown, right before hiking her left thigh over his shoulder and disappearing beneath the plum-coloured fabric.
She practically collapsed against the door behind her at the first brush of his lips on her sensitive skin, eyes closing to shut out the gaudy room and focus on the astonishing things he was doing to her. Mindlessly, her hands crept below to find anchor in the thickness of his hair, breaths coming out in harsh pants as James picked up right where he'd stopped; fingers dipping in, out, curling strategically against her pulsing walls. But then he added his tongue—Merlin, his glorious fucking tongue—into the equation, swirling and suckling teasingly at her clit, and Lily had to clap a hand over her mouth, positive that the moan building up her chest would shatter through the silencing spell in the room if left untempered.
"James, my God—I'm close—"
But that only spurred him on to make the strokes more deliberate, lips and tongue shifting pace to deliver longer, languid sweeps that had her keening. His hands shifted from her heat to curve around her arse and thighs to hold her steady as she finally came on his face with a muffled cry.
Colours spangled behind closed eyelids as the waves rocked through her body, and Lily was certain she would crumble to the floor if not for the support propping her up when James kept lapping at the wetness with a long-drawn, satisfied hum.
It took several seconds for her limbs to regain any semblance of control, and still, when James eventually emerged from beneath the skirt with fogged glasses and glistening lips curved into a pleased smirk, it required quite a few dazed blinks for Lily to find her voice again.
"Thank you," she managed.
He laughed, finding her fingers with his and threading them together as he stood. "Feel better?"
"Much," she mumbled, slumping forward into his chest, the tension that had resided in her shoulders finally melted away, at least for tonight. Her hand curved around his neck, smile blooming when she noted how hot and red his skin was under the contact. "Looks like you could do with some reciprocation here."
His lashes fluttered, a low hiss whistling past lips as she let her palm crawl down and cup the hard outline that strained through his trousers. James's left hand dug into her hip, mouth finding hers to engage in a firm, desperate kiss that she returned only too happily, fingers massaging him steadily below. However, it wasn't long before he was breaking away with a rushed breath and knitted brows, halting her wrist from drawing longer strokes as he pulled her hand up to rest on his chest.
Beneath the touch, she felt his heart pound, as fast and emphatic as her own.
"Lily," he said softly. "Please, baby."
Something low in her stomach fluttered, a swoop of emotion that had her wondering how he still affected her so, even after two years of doing this and more with him. But she made herself grin, knotting fingers around his robes to pull herself closer and strategically grind her hips against his.
"You only had to ask, Potter."
"You're cruel," he said, the words an echo of the accusation he'd shot at her in the bar earlier. But when Lily's focus dropped to his trousers and she began the process of unbuckling his belt, James didn't waste any time in removing his robes, untucking and unbuttoning his shirt. "So fucking cruel. And cunning. It's like you exist to torture me."
"Mm, how nice to hear." She smirked, hand reaching inside the waistband of his underpants to hold the hard length of him in her grip, using the control to steady the sudden shift of his hips as he pushed into her palm, almost instinctively. James dropped a quiet swear against the crown of her head as she stroked him; once, twice, thrice. "I'm sorry, you were saying?"
"I was saying—" his breath caught for a second, and she had to adjust her hand around his base when he kicked away his trousers. "I was saying… that I love you. And I can't wait to fuck you on this random bed in this horrible pub."
"Romantic," she whispered into his ear, letting out a breathy huff of laughter when his palms slipped underneath her dress again and rounded her arse to hoist her straight off the floor. James growled in impatience as she began nipping at licking at the shell of his ear, dragging open-mouthed kisses over the strong muscles of his neck, and once he'd deposited her on the bed, his fingers scrambled to fairly rip at her dress. Lily expelled a noise from the back of her throat. "Hey now, this was expensive!"
"It's in the way," he complained, but nonetheless slowed the vehemence to carefully unbutton and peel the garment away. She pressed back an affectionate smile; he really was too considerate sometimes, this sweet man of hers.
The adoration quickly transformed into something more heated as soon as James got rid of the dress and cupped warm palms over her exposed breasts however. She'd gone without a bra to do justice to the plunging neckline of her outfit, and if the way he groaned and brushed against her thigh as his body covered hers was any indication, James seemed quite gratified by her decision too.
"Fucking beautiful," he mumbled under his breath, lips wrapping around a nipple, tongue rolling and lavishing as her heart beat sped up once more, pleasure boiling near her navel and shooting straight to her core. Lily could only lift her hips and rub against his still-clothed erection as he shifted his attention to her other breast. "Merlin, Lily, you're going to kill me one of these days."
She tugged his face up with a firm grip on his hair; found swollen lips, dark eyes, a lust-hazed expression that no doubt mirrored her own. Making sure that he saw she knew what she was doing, she wrapped her legs around his waist and brazenly dragged against his cock once again, desire making her lids droop, tormented moan vibrating in her throat.
"Maybe if you give us both what we want," she sighed, " I won't have to kill anyone."
"Fuck." James shook his head, and in a sudden shift of pace, roughly tugged down her knickers, tossing it over his shoulder. "Fuck, come here."
She was only too happy to oblige, helping him remove his underpants to do away with the last article of clothing that separated them, and when James settled over her again, the maddeningly warm planes of his chest and abdominals pressing against her skin, she was certain she'd be content to stay like that forever.
Quite quickly, however, Lily was forced to reassess that thought when he gently lifted her thighs, palms splayed and thumbs caressing the back of her knees with seemingly all the attention in the world, before his tip—already slightly leaking with arousal—slanted deliberately over her wet folds. A silent gasp escaped her at the same time that James's jaw clenched with a low grunt, gaze misting over with want as he stared at the place their bodies came in contact.
"Fuck," Lily panted, neck arching back against pillow as her eyes closed, senses overloaded. "Fuck, James, do that again—"
He did, this time letting go of one of her legs to guide his strokes better against her clit. Lily was certain she could come from this friction alone; already felt the beginnings of a familiar pressure somewhere low in her belly. The fact that she had been moaning and repeating his name nonsensically only registered in her mind when she felt his length slip lower, prod at her entrance delicately.
When there was no instant follow through on the promise, she opened her eyes to find James watching her with slack-jawed awe, the top of his lip and forehead dotted with sweat, chest heaving with deep breaths, throat bobbing. Inside her chest, her heart stirred with a feeling that suddenly grew too large for her to contain without mention.
And so Lily expelled a breath, cupping his cheeks and brushing her thumbs over his jaw as she kissed him; lazy, deep.
"I love you so fucking much," she said, giving him the words that shone clear as day on his face.
James's lips grew insistent, tongue entangling with hers in response. His left hand gripped onto the headboard behind her as his right tilted her face for a better angle at the same time that he entered her—finally, slowly, the stretch of her muscles around his cock unbelievably delicious despite its familiarity.
He pulled out the very next second; buried into her again with another thrust.
Lily half-sobbed in pleasure, breaking away from his mouth. "Merlin, James—"
"Shit, Lily, you don't know how fast my heart is beating," he panted, setting a steady rhythm of strokes, guiding her hips to find a position that had her pulling him closer, latching lips and tongue to the hollow of his throat as the bedframe rocked into the wall again and again. "I swear to Merlin, I'm going to ask you to marry me one of these days."
Her pulse stuttered for half a breath, but the response slipped out, honest and easy: "Okay." A pause. "I'll say yes."
James buried an incredulous rush of quiet laughter against the flushed skin of her chest, nose nuzzling the soft flesh there. "I'm taking your word, Evans."
And then his tongue darted out to lick at her breasts again, the pace of his thrusts steadily increasing as he drove them both closer and closer to the edge of release. Lily lifted her hips in time with his movements, searching for the exact angle that would—oh, there. She scrunched her eyes shut and tugged James forward into a bruising, messy kiss to empty the moan that clambered up her mouth when he hit that perfect spot in her again. The fervour of the moment had their teeth clacking, lips dragging, breaths coming out half-formed.
James let his fingers disappear into the thick, tangled curtain of her hair.
"Lily, I'm—" his mouth travelled to brush softly over the top of her cheek. "Are you close, love?"
She nodded shakily. "Yes, yes, just—"
But she didn't need to tell him; his right hand left the damp underside of her knee to travel down to her sticky-warm centre. The way her thighs shook and back arched off the mattress when he began rubbing short, deliberate circles against her clit might have been embarrassing if she wasn't far past the point of care—and if James's own need for release wasn't painted so starkly on the flush of his face.
"Come for me, baby," his voice coaxed, gravelly and relaxing unlike the frenzy of his hips snapping against hers, "Let go."
Lily was certain she was being abhorrently loud, skin burning, breaths short, but she let his name float past her lips on a cry as the feeling that had been growing within finally overflowed, unspooling her completely.
"James—" the air stuttered in her lungs, body too hot, too sensitive. She dug fingers into his shoulders, held tight as the first wave of orgasm rushed through her limbs, all but sending the world spinning around her with its intensity.
Her heels remained locked around his lower back, and it wasn't difficult to identify the moment when, a few beats later, James stilled for a second before emptying into her with a groan, the liquid heat from their release trickling out from the place their bodies joined.
Fingers slightly atremble, Lily reached up to gently brush at the locks of ink-black hair that matted against James's forehead as he slumped forward into her, the weight of him solid and welcomed and a lot like home.
She could still feel the pound of her heart against her chest—or was it his?—and just wrapped her arms around his shoulders and drew soothing patterns against his spine as they both caught their breaths. Moments, seconds, minutes passed before James began dropping lazy kisses against her chest and neck. When he eventually rolled off of her, his expression momentarily flickered with the sensation of overstimulation, and Lily bit back a smile at this familiar play of reaction on his face.
Honestly, she could imagine herself doing this for the rest of her life only too easily. Perhaps that ought to have scared her; instead, she only found peace.
Recalling what he'd said earlier, in the heat of the moment, however, a strange flutter took off in her chest, and as if he could read the exact thoughts floating through her head right then, James turned to look at her with an amused smile on his face, his fingers distractedly waving his wand to get rid of the mess they'd both made.
"What's on your mind?"
Lily sunk her teeth over bottom lip, debated playing coy. Decided against it. "What was that back there about a proposal?"
He watched her for a beat, and then ran a hand through his hair, chin tucked into chest. "Could have timed it better."
"I don't care about that." She cocked a brow, turning sideways and propping herself up on an elbow. And if her eyes strayed southward for a second—well, she was only a witch. "Were you serious?"
"Of course," he said easily. "I never joke."
"James."
He laughed, cheeks colouring in a way that had her grinning too. "Yes, I was serious. I'll ask."
Despite the way something golden and blinding enlarged inside her at that, Lily simply scooted closer to him on the bed, slipped a hand over his jaw and pressed a tender, short kiss against his lips. "Okay, then."
James's eyes opened after a prolonged beat, meeting her stare with quiet sincerity.
"Okay, then," he whispered.
A/N - Reviews make my whole week!