When the lights go out, the air in the bedroom becomes charged. George isn't sure if it's just him or if Angelina feels it, too. It's not like today went particularly well. They were both screaming their lungs out this morning and this evening they barely said two words to each other. George is surprised that he isn't sleeping on the couch tonight. However, since they're actually trying to make a go at this, he reckons that Angelina doesn't want to screw it up by sending him to the couch.

Ginny advised against going to bed angry. She said that it let the feeling simmer, but not cool. She also told him that he should just agree with Angelina on everything because she was probably always going to be right. Thanks, Ginny, he thinks. But that really didn't help. He supposes that he should just go to sleep and they'll sort things out in the morning.

Suddenly, Angelina has rolled on top of him and her lips have met his. His hands try to still her hips which are rocking hard against his. Despite his attempts to stop her, she prevails in making him hard as a rock. Pulling back, she drawls her shirt over her head, leaving her topless. Thank Merlin, she decided not to wear a bra.

Immediately, George's hands find her breasts and harshly caress them. She doesn't seem to mind though because she lets out a rather loud moan and arches into his hands. Her center collides with his prick rather forcefully, much to George's delight. Swiftly, his hands find their way into her knickers and push against her clit.

Angelina cries out, her head finding rest against his shoulder. He loves the reactions he drawls from her. As she bucks against his hand, George finds it a bit difficult to maneuver his hand lower and her knickers aren't helping. Growling, he grabs her bloody underwear and yanks them until he hears them start to rip.

"Hey!" Angelina shouts, jerking away from him. She pulls the offending garment down her legs then proceeds to climb back on top of him. This is much better, he thinks as his fingers find the warm asylum between her legs. This is pure bliss and nothing can wretch him from this moment.

"I need you," she mutters, still rocking against his fingers as she tries to get his boxers off. Obediently, George lifts his hips off the bed and lets her pull down his underwear. Then she snatches his wrist and yanks his fingers out of her. Finally, she is sliding onto his shaft and George once again feels like he's returning home after a long journey.

"Oh, Angie," he sighs, pulling her hips against him slowly. However, their slow rhythm doesn't last and Angelina is suddenly slamming her hips against his with such a force that it almost pushes him over the edge. He somehow manages to hold his own though and rocks back just as harshly, making sure that he hits the perfect spot each time.

"Come for me," she mutters low and sexy in his ear. It's then that he realizes what she's trying to do. She wants to win and if she can't win their argument, then she'll win by making him come before she does. George always did like a challenge and now is no different. So he accepts her offer, sliding his hand down to her clit.

"Only if you come with me," he replies. Immediately, he sees her eyes darken—not only with lust, but with the realization that he's challenging her. She grabs at his wrist, but he won't be moved this time. He was always a sore loser anyway and he doesn't want to hear her gloat so he promises himself that he won't let her.

Bracing herself against his shoulders, she finally reaches her climax. He nearly lets go when she does, but somehow, he finds some resistant that he didn't know he possessed, letting her finish on her own. Her head rests against his shoulder, as her breath tickles his ear. Gently, he rubs her back as she comes down from her high.

"You. . . .cheated," she pants.

"Did not," he says. "I won."

"Come for me," she whines. "Please come for me. Inside me."

Her words are enough as his hips drag off the bed of their own accord and he buries himself deeply inside of her, causing her to cry out. Afterward, she lays on top of his chest, contented.

"What was that about?" he asks.

She shrugs. "I was horny and I didn't care about our stupid fight."

George snorts. "So we're over it."

"Yeah, we're over it."