forgo the foreplay and the bed
Early December in London was chilly. There was a brisk wind blowing along the High Street as Julian stepped into Le Petit Magicien, a speciality children’s shoppe that catered to wizards and witches. Off Bond Street, it was tucked away between Bulgari and Salvatore Ferragamo-- not exactly the location most people would expect a wizarding children’s store to be. However, Julian had it on trusted authority that this was the place for children’s toys.
And Christmas was coming.
He waved off the attentive shop girl who came bustling towards the door, dismissing her with a little flick of his fingers. He did not need help in picking out gifts for his children, especially not from a girl who could not have been out of Hogwarts more than a year. And she was likely working on commission, and there was nothing more annoying than an overbearing female.
With that in mind, he started down towards the wooden Quidditch figures.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
This had been a horrible idea, Penelope thought, picking at her food as her date nattered on about centaur treatises, oblivious to her disinterest.
She’d tried. She really had. Her dress was new, her pumps were killer--though maybe a miscalculation since she now towered over her date. She’d tried to engage in conversation. At one point centaur treatises would have been a happy topic for her.
Now she didn’t give a damn.
And it really annoyed her. It’d been over a year and she really wanted to have sex tonight, damnit. Happily, her date--Robert, maybe?--wouldn’t have to talk for that.
Stifling a sigh, she put on her best smile and opened her mouth to hurry the night along.
“What do you think about skipping dessert?” was what she would have said if the waiter hadn’t arrived to interrupt her.
“Madame? Your house elf is at the fireplace. She seems quite frantic.”
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Julian didn’t know what to buy. For the first time in his life, he was completely at a loss as to what to purchase. It wasn’t that he was a fastidious buyer-- he merely had particular tastes-- but never in his twenty-nine years of life had he had to buy a gift for an infant. And now, he had a twin set.
What was appropriate? Plushies? But they already had plenty of those, courtesy of Penelope’s numerous Ravenclaw friends who fawned over the twins. Was seven months too young for a baby broomstick?
He could practically see Penelope’s look of disapproval at the idea.
“Julian!”
His head whipped sharply to the side at the sound of a familiar voice, intonation urgent. “Dominique,” he said, raising one brow as his secretary-slash-assistant hurried towards him. “What is it?”
“Nana,” she said quickly, her French accent growing thicker in her hurry to speak. “She came to ze office, looking for you. Ze twins, zere is something wrong.”
Julian didn’t even wait for her to say any more. Handing her the stuffed dragon he’d been holding, he pulled out his wand and Apparated out of the shop with a loud ‘crack!’
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Penelope hit the foyer running once she Apparated.
“Nana!” she yelled, climbing the stairs. “I couldn’t understand a word you were saying! What’s wrong?”
The snap of another person arriving in her house late at night made her head swiveled back and her wand hand twitch.
Julian was in her foyer.
“Oh God, she called you too?” she asked, panic in her tone. What was wrong with their children?
“She called the office. Dominique came to fetch me.” Immediately, he started towards the stairs, wand in hand. Concern over what had befallen their children overrode all other thoughts for the moment. “Did she say what happened?”
“She tried, but she was so upset,” Penelope replied as they hurried up the stairs together.
It was two very distressed parents that burst into the dark nursery.
“Nana?” Penelope asked in a low voice.
“Oh! Mizzus Penny, quiet!” Nana scolded from a dark corner. “The twinsies just fell asleep!”
Julian stopped and let his eyes adjust to the darkness, blinking before his gaze found the house elf. “Nana,” he said in a quiet, even tone -- despite his racing heart, “what in Merlin’s name is going on?”
The twins were asleep. Obviously, it was not quite as dire as they’d been led to believe.
Nana tugged at her towel, sheepishly. “Nana is sorry that she upsetted you, Mizzus Penny, Master Julian. The twinsies, they made lights and things moved. Nana was overexcited.”
Penny held breath came out in one relieved burst. “They manifested magic?”
Nana nodded. “Nana and they was the only ones here.”
Merlin. Magic manifestations at six months of age. His children were brilliant. He was still a bit on edge from the sudden rush of concern, but it was slowly fading. The twins were safe, and they were already showing signs of magic. He would be collecting his ten galleons from Montague tomorrow -- his children were not Squibs.
“They’re early. That’s good,” he said, nodding as a hint of pride crept into his voice.
“How early?” Penelope’s brows raised, as a Muggleborn she wasn’t sure what the timeline for this sort of thing was.
“Most children are at least three, sometimes four.” From what his Nonna had told him, his first display of magic had been on his third birthday -- he’d summoned his plush dragon when it was sitting next to his grandfather, across the room.
“Does it mean anything? To be early?”
He lifted a shoulder and shrugged slightly. “I’m not entirely certain. Could mean nothing, could mean they’re likely to be incredibly powerful.”
Penelope couldn’t help it, she smiled at the news. Pride swelled up in her until she feared she would burst. Would it be inappropriate to Floo everyone she knew to tell them her children were extraordinary?
“Let’s not over-inflate their egos at six months,” she said instead, though her tone remained amused.
“They’re asleep.”
“Even worse, it’ll be subliminal.”
Nana looked between the two with wide eyes. She wasn’t sure what to do when Mizzus Penny and Master Julian got along. “So, Nana not a bad elf?”
Julian glanced back over at the elf, tamping down his initial flux of annoyance at his children’s nanny. She had only been trying to do her job -- taking care of the babies. Better safe than sorry. “You’ve likely taken five years off my life -- more from Penelope. But no, you’re not a bad elf.”
Nana relaxed. “Nana is sorry she scared Mizzus Penny and Master Julian. Now, Nana has things to do.” She bobbed a curtsy and popped out of the room, leaving the parents alone.
Leaning over the crib, Penelope looked down at Cassandra’s peaceful face. She wanted to smooth the disarrayed tuft of hair on her daughter’s head but knew Cassie was such a light sleeper that touch often woke her. Instead she looked at Julian.
“Well, I could use a drink,” she whispered. “Could I tempt you?”
In that tiny little dress and razor sharp pair of heels, she could likely tempt the sense he had to say no. Which she had, if the words, “Alright. If you’ve not... somewhere to be,” were any indication.
What -- or who -- had she been doing prior to their little situation? And why did he even want to know?
They crept out of the nursery as quietly as possible and made their way downstairs to the dining room and the liquor cabinet. Penny grabbed two glasses and the bottle of scotch, holding it up for Julian’s approval before pouring their drinks. Both doubles.
“Bloody hell, that was one scare enough for a lifetime,” she groaned after a deep gulp.
His gaze lingered unwittingly on the line of her throat as she threw back a long drink of scotch before it pulled away, landing on his own drink. “Indeed.” Julian took a sip of the amber liquid, sighing in relief as it burned its way down his throat.
He hadn’t realized how much he’d needed a drink until that very second.
Penny sank down into a seat and settled her elbows on the dining table, swirling her drink to catch the light. “My apologies if Nana pulled you away from something important. Though I suppose I’d be upset as well if pottery was flying by my head.”
Julian’s brow rose ever so slightly at the way her breasts strained against her tight silk dress. His fingers tightened their grip on his glass, pulling for a modicum of control and trying to remember why he shouldn’t want to do the things he wanted to do to her. “Nothing that can’t be done tomorrow. I’m sure wherever you were doing was more interesting.”
“Doubtful,” she sighed.
So much for her high hopes that her a lackluster date would end with meaningless sex. This hadn’t used to be a problem before she’d tangled her life with this man. The man she hadn’t let herself think about in any way remotely sexual since before the trial. Well, not often anyway.
Julian’s lips twitched. “Not an evening well spent, I take it?” His smirk only grew when she shot a look at him -- as if it were his fault for deducing she’d been on a date. He knew Penelope, and he highly doubted she wore skintight black silk and stilettos around the house for enjoyment.
“Not that it’s any business of yours,” Penelope began with little heat. There was no point in pretending, really. She used to dress this way for him. “But no, I suppose it wasn’t.”
“Pity.” He was playing with fire, but he couldn’t resist the temptation. He tipped his tumbler back and took another sip, then set the glass down on the sidebar. His slow, even footsteps echoed across the dining room as he circled the table, eyes on hers the whole time. He shouldn’t be playing this game -- but Merlin, did he want to.
Her back was to him as he crossed round behind her and stopped, letting one hand drift in front of her. From his vantage, he could see the way her breath made her breasts bob up and down, snug in that satin dress. “You’re wound so tight.” His index finger ghosted across her collarbone. Her skin prickled in awareness, and he exhaled through a smile.
Penny didn’t react, not outwardly. Her breath didn’t hitch, her lips didn’t twitch. Outwardly, she continued to consider her drink, letting the light from the foyer glint over the amber liquid. But inside, something shifted. A half-forgotten feeling kindled and, in a flash, Penelope knew she was, once again, about to do something stupid with Julian Vaisey.
She rose, her drink meeting the mahogany of the table with a clink, and faced her seducer. Or was she seducing him? It was so hard to tell anymore. It didn’t matter.
“I suppose the appropriately cliche response would be help loosen me up then.”
The warmth of her hand blazed a trail between his shirt and suit jacket. He’d always had such a fine taste in suits. She liked that.
He reached up, pressing her hand against him through his jacket, and let his gaze hold hers for a long moment. It would be cliche, to fall back into bed with Penelope after all that had happened. But at that moment, he could care less.
Julian’s lips curled as he ducked his head and shifted closer to her. His nose brushed along her soft jawline, inhaling the sweet scent of rosewood and violet. Givenchy, his mind supplied helpfully, and his free hand slid around her waist. He wanted to feel her against him again.
The distance between them closed to nothing, Penelope’s one hand trapped between them while the other swept over his shoulders. Everything felt like it was happening in slow motion, like every moment that she didn’t say no, stop extended into eternity. Her mouth searched out the small spot between neck and ear that she knew drove Julian mad; that was her answer.
A shudder ripped over his shoulders. It’d been too long.
Fingers tightening against the small of her back, Julian’s lips found her neck. He knew which spots to taste, to touch; the way feather-soft kisses made her squirm. He also knew which touches could drive her into a frenzy. The hand trapped atop hers twisted to touch her chest, running teasing lines over the swell of her breast.
With a soft moan, Penelope pulled them back a step to the dining table, taking a seat and welcoming him into the space between her thighs. She wanted more--more touch, more closeness. More, more, more.
Working his hand free from between them, Julian planted his hands against the polished mahogany on either side of her, caging her between him and the table. For the first time in over a year, his lips met hers in a surprisingly deep, languid kiss -- one completely out of character for the friction that lay between them.
Penelope sighed into Julian’s mouth, savoring the kiss while using what leverage she had to pull Julian down over her.
Her hips were pinned tightly against his own as he familiarized himself with the feel of her soft curves. It was just a sample, a tease of what else there was, and he wanted all of it. He wanted to run his hands over her pale skin again.
One hand braced on the table, he slid the other up her back to where her dress fastened. Fingers seeking out the zipper, he tugged it down slowly, the sound of the parting zip loud in his ears.
Lifting her hips, she let Julian push her dress off.
“Put that over the chair,” she murmured. “Or it’ll wrinkle.”
He was half-tempted to let the dress drop to the floor and ignore her. She hadn’t been quite so fastidious about her dresses when they’d been lying on the floor of his flat.
Julian pulled away, lips twitching at her soft sound of protest. He picked the silk dress up from the floor, letting his fingers slide over the silk material. He took his time, slowly smoothing the tiny creases out before he laid it gently over the back of the chair.
His eyes moved back to Penelope, taking in the sight she made in her black matching bra and knickers. Saying he’d almost forgot what she felt like beneath him would be a lie; he recalled all too easily the image of her naked body. Memory, though, was never quite the same as the reality in front of him.
“Not bad for carrying twins, I hope.” Penelope would never admit she was uncomfortable with Julian’s appraisal of her but, well, it had been a year. A year that had included childbirth.
Green gaze flickered up to meet her own, then drifted back down her body. Her curves -- already present to begin with -- were more prominent, her breasts slightly fuller than he remembered. If her stomach was softer than before, or her hips a tad more shapely, she was still an attractive and desirable woman -- no matter how he felt about her.
He didn’t answer out loud, instead ducking his head to press his lips to her neck once more. It wasn’t enough to look his fill; he wanted to touch.
Relief and pleasure washed over her as Julian ran his hands and lips over her body. Arching up against him, Penny thought that this was what she’d been wanting--human contact. Touch. It always seemed to come down to this between her and Julian, whatever this was. They met a need in the other--relieved a loneliness--one that no one else seemed to be able to meet, whatever they may say later.
Feeling that Julian was overdressed for the occasion, Penny pushed his jacket off his shoulders before trailing her hands down his chest to tug at the hem of this shirt.
His jacket fell to the floor, forgotten, as her busy little hands went to work on his shirt. She hadn’t lost the skill, flicking buttons open in rapid succession until the black material hung loosely on his frame. Not one to stand by idly when there was undressing to be done, Julian’s hands slid around Penelope to find the clasp of her bra.
The silk material fell away easily, revealing creamy skin to his touch. His lips continued to move across her body, trailing wet kisses down to her breasts.
Her head rolled back as his mouth took in a nipple, teasing the pebbled flesh with tongue and teeth to elicit a heady moan.
Pulling him back up so her lips could meet his, she wrapped her legs around his waist and whispered her only concession. “Please.”
Julian couldn’t help but smirk against her lips. Please. It sounded so pretty coming from her lips, the admission that she wanted this. She would deny it later -- claim she wanted nothing to do with him outside their children -- but he knew the truth.
He also knew, despite everything, he still wanted this, too.
His hands left over her soft body to work between them, undoing the buckle on his belt and pushing his trousers down. Julian cupped her sex possessively and groaned, the damp silk serving to show just how much she wanted him. Slipping one finger beneath her knickers, he pushed the flimsy material to the side and pushed into her waiting body.
Gasping at the intrusion, her hips bucked forward for more. Her hands clutched at his shoulders, wrinkling the shirt she hadn’t gotten around to taking off.
Bracing his hands on either side of her body, Julian withdrew, then thrust back into her waiting body with a smooth roll of his hips. He couldn’t help the way his body responded to hers, how easy it was to find a rhythm with her. As her legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him tighter against her, his lips found her throat.
Flesh meeting flesh, they moved together. Her breath hot in his ear as she moaned and panted with each new sensation. Her toes curled with the knowledge that they were having a slow, languid shag on her dining room table, blatantly there for any visitor or late night Floo caller to see.
Every little gasp and moan fueled their coupling. The way her body stretched and arched beneath his, her skin flushed pink and her lips parted and met his in a kiss -- it all brought back memories of previous liaisons. But no memory was as strong and erotic as the present moment; foregoing bed and all things proper in the rush of desire and want that still flowed between them.
When Penelope came, she was silent, biting her lip and clenching her entire body around him--nails and heels pressing their mark into his body. For a brief moment, nothing mattered except sensation. There was no trial, no children, no distance between them. Just this.
He was slightly disappointed; she sounded so beautiful when she came -- a pleasure she was denying him now. But when her body clenched around him, her nails marking his skin pressing home her climax, his own was ripped with an answered silence. Hips jerking raggedly, his teeth found the smooth skin of her shoulder, biting down as he thrust his last into her.
Heat pounding, she relaxed back onto the table and focused on her breathing as the feeling of euphoria faded. Her hand travelled upward to play with the damp strands at the back of Julian’s neck. His weight pressed against her while he was lost in his own afterglow.
She sighed as reality began to re-establish itself. “We shouldn’t have done that,” she said, sadly.
Julian closed his eyes and tried to ignore the knowledge that she was right. They shouldn’t have done that -- fallen back into their old routine. It was better to stay away. It was easier to pretend that what had happened between them was cut and dry; no emotion. But it wasn’t, and that he didn’t deny. He didn’t think she did, either.
“No, we shouldn’t have,” he said softly, straightening as he lifted his head from her shoulder and braced himself on his arms above her. There was a distance between them now, but their lower bodies were still connected in the most intimate of ways.
Silence stretched between them. There wasn’t anything else to say, Penelope thought.
She shifted, pushing up to sit and forcing him to step back. She adjusted her skirt and slid off the table. “I expect you can see yourself out.”
He readjusted himself, his familiar mask of indifference firmly back in place as he righted his trousers and summoned his robes. Meeting her gaze, his own devoid of any emotion with name, he inclined his head and Disapperated.
Alone, Penelope pinched the bridge of her nose. Be careful what you wish for, indeed.
Sighing again, she left the dining room, flipping the light off on the way out.
And Christmas was coming.
He waved off the attentive shop girl who came bustling towards the door, dismissing her with a little flick of his fingers. He did not need help in picking out gifts for his children, especially not from a girl who could not have been out of Hogwarts more than a year. And she was likely working on commission, and there was nothing more annoying than an overbearing female.
With that in mind, he started down towards the wooden Quidditch figures.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
This had been a horrible idea, Penelope thought, picking at her food as her date nattered on about centaur treatises, oblivious to her disinterest.
She’d tried. She really had. Her dress was new, her pumps were killer--though maybe a miscalculation since she now towered over her date. She’d tried to engage in conversation. At one point centaur treatises would have been a happy topic for her.
Now she didn’t give a damn.
And it really annoyed her. It’d been over a year and she really wanted to have sex tonight, damnit. Happily, her date--Robert, maybe?--wouldn’t have to talk for that.
Stifling a sigh, she put on her best smile and opened her mouth to hurry the night along.
“What do you think about skipping dessert?” was what she would have said if the waiter hadn’t arrived to interrupt her.
“Madame? Your house elf is at the fireplace. She seems quite frantic.”
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Julian didn’t know what to buy. For the first time in his life, he was completely at a loss as to what to purchase. It wasn’t that he was a fastidious buyer-- he merely had particular tastes-- but never in his twenty-nine years of life had he had to buy a gift for an infant. And now, he had a twin set.
What was appropriate? Plushies? But they already had plenty of those, courtesy of Penelope’s numerous Ravenclaw friends who fawned over the twins. Was seven months too young for a baby broomstick?
He could practically see Penelope’s look of disapproval at the idea.
“Julian!”
His head whipped sharply to the side at the sound of a familiar voice, intonation urgent. “Dominique,” he said, raising one brow as his secretary-slash-assistant hurried towards him. “What is it?”
“Nana,” she said quickly, her French accent growing thicker in her hurry to speak. “She came to ze office, looking for you. Ze twins, zere is something wrong.”
Julian didn’t even wait for her to say any more. Handing her the stuffed dragon he’d been holding, he pulled out his wand and Apparated out of the shop with a loud ‘crack!’
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Penelope hit the foyer running once she Apparated.
“Nana!” she yelled, climbing the stairs. “I couldn’t understand a word you were saying! What’s wrong?”
The snap of another person arriving in her house late at night made her head swiveled back and her wand hand twitch.
Julian was in her foyer.
“Oh God, she called you too?” she asked, panic in her tone. What was wrong with their children?
“She called the office. Dominique came to fetch me.” Immediately, he started towards the stairs, wand in hand. Concern over what had befallen their children overrode all other thoughts for the moment. “Did she say what happened?”
“She tried, but she was so upset,” Penelope replied as they hurried up the stairs together.
It was two very distressed parents that burst into the dark nursery.
“Nana?” Penelope asked in a low voice.
“Oh! Mizzus Penny, quiet!” Nana scolded from a dark corner. “The twinsies just fell asleep!”
Julian stopped and let his eyes adjust to the darkness, blinking before his gaze found the house elf. “Nana,” he said in a quiet, even tone -- despite his racing heart, “what in Merlin’s name is going on?”
The twins were asleep. Obviously, it was not quite as dire as they’d been led to believe.
Nana tugged at her towel, sheepishly. “Nana is sorry that she upsetted you, Mizzus Penny, Master Julian. The twinsies, they made lights and things moved. Nana was overexcited.”
Penny held breath came out in one relieved burst. “They manifested magic?”
Nana nodded. “Nana and they was the only ones here.”
Merlin. Magic manifestations at six months of age. His children were brilliant. He was still a bit on edge from the sudden rush of concern, but it was slowly fading. The twins were safe, and they were already showing signs of magic. He would be collecting his ten galleons from Montague tomorrow -- his children were not Squibs.
“They’re early. That’s good,” he said, nodding as a hint of pride crept into his voice.
“How early?” Penelope’s brows raised, as a Muggleborn she wasn’t sure what the timeline for this sort of thing was.
“Most children are at least three, sometimes four.” From what his Nonna had told him, his first display of magic had been on his third birthday -- he’d summoned his plush dragon when it was sitting next to his grandfather, across the room.
“Does it mean anything? To be early?”
He lifted a shoulder and shrugged slightly. “I’m not entirely certain. Could mean nothing, could mean they’re likely to be incredibly powerful.”
Penelope couldn’t help it, she smiled at the news. Pride swelled up in her until she feared she would burst. Would it be inappropriate to Floo everyone she knew to tell them her children were extraordinary?
“Let’s not over-inflate their egos at six months,” she said instead, though her tone remained amused.
“They’re asleep.”
“Even worse, it’ll be subliminal.”
Nana looked between the two with wide eyes. She wasn’t sure what to do when Mizzus Penny and Master Julian got along. “So, Nana not a bad elf?”
Julian glanced back over at the elf, tamping down his initial flux of annoyance at his children’s nanny. She had only been trying to do her job -- taking care of the babies. Better safe than sorry. “You’ve likely taken five years off my life -- more from Penelope. But no, you’re not a bad elf.”
Nana relaxed. “Nana is sorry she scared Mizzus Penny and Master Julian. Now, Nana has things to do.” She bobbed a curtsy and popped out of the room, leaving the parents alone.
Leaning over the crib, Penelope looked down at Cassandra’s peaceful face. She wanted to smooth the disarrayed tuft of hair on her daughter’s head but knew Cassie was such a light sleeper that touch often woke her. Instead she looked at Julian.
“Well, I could use a drink,” she whispered. “Could I tempt you?”
In that tiny little dress and razor sharp pair of heels, she could likely tempt the sense he had to say no. Which she had, if the words, “Alright. If you’ve not... somewhere to be,” were any indication.
What -- or who -- had she been doing prior to their little situation? And why did he even want to know?
They crept out of the nursery as quietly as possible and made their way downstairs to the dining room and the liquor cabinet. Penny grabbed two glasses and the bottle of scotch, holding it up for Julian’s approval before pouring their drinks. Both doubles.
“Bloody hell, that was one scare enough for a lifetime,” she groaned after a deep gulp.
His gaze lingered unwittingly on the line of her throat as she threw back a long drink of scotch before it pulled away, landing on his own drink. “Indeed.” Julian took a sip of the amber liquid, sighing in relief as it burned its way down his throat.
He hadn’t realized how much he’d needed a drink until that very second.
Penny sank down into a seat and settled her elbows on the dining table, swirling her drink to catch the light. “My apologies if Nana pulled you away from something important. Though I suppose I’d be upset as well if pottery was flying by my head.”
Julian’s brow rose ever so slightly at the way her breasts strained against her tight silk dress. His fingers tightened their grip on his glass, pulling for a modicum of control and trying to remember why he shouldn’t want to do the things he wanted to do to her. “Nothing that can’t be done tomorrow. I’m sure wherever you were doing was more interesting.”
“Doubtful,” she sighed.
So much for her high hopes that her a lackluster date would end with meaningless sex. This hadn’t used to be a problem before she’d tangled her life with this man. The man she hadn’t let herself think about in any way remotely sexual since before the trial. Well, not often anyway.
Julian’s lips twitched. “Not an evening well spent, I take it?” His smirk only grew when she shot a look at him -- as if it were his fault for deducing she’d been on a date. He knew Penelope, and he highly doubted she wore skintight black silk and stilettos around the house for enjoyment.
“Not that it’s any business of yours,” Penelope began with little heat. There was no point in pretending, really. She used to dress this way for him. “But no, I suppose it wasn’t.”
“Pity.” He was playing with fire, but he couldn’t resist the temptation. He tipped his tumbler back and took another sip, then set the glass down on the sidebar. His slow, even footsteps echoed across the dining room as he circled the table, eyes on hers the whole time. He shouldn’t be playing this game -- but Merlin, did he want to.
Her back was to him as he crossed round behind her and stopped, letting one hand drift in front of her. From his vantage, he could see the way her breath made her breasts bob up and down, snug in that satin dress. “You’re wound so tight.” His index finger ghosted across her collarbone. Her skin prickled in awareness, and he exhaled through a smile.
Penny didn’t react, not outwardly. Her breath didn’t hitch, her lips didn’t twitch. Outwardly, she continued to consider her drink, letting the light from the foyer glint over the amber liquid. But inside, something shifted. A half-forgotten feeling kindled and, in a flash, Penelope knew she was, once again, about to do something stupid with Julian Vaisey.
She rose, her drink meeting the mahogany of the table with a clink, and faced her seducer. Or was she seducing him? It was so hard to tell anymore. It didn’t matter.
“I suppose the appropriately cliche response would be help loosen me up then.”
The warmth of her hand blazed a trail between his shirt and suit jacket. He’d always had such a fine taste in suits. She liked that.
He reached up, pressing her hand against him through his jacket, and let his gaze hold hers for a long moment. It would be cliche, to fall back into bed with Penelope after all that had happened. But at that moment, he could care less.
Julian’s lips curled as he ducked his head and shifted closer to her. His nose brushed along her soft jawline, inhaling the sweet scent of rosewood and violet. Givenchy, his mind supplied helpfully, and his free hand slid around her waist. He wanted to feel her against him again.
The distance between them closed to nothing, Penelope’s one hand trapped between them while the other swept over his shoulders. Everything felt like it was happening in slow motion, like every moment that she didn’t say no, stop extended into eternity. Her mouth searched out the small spot between neck and ear that she knew drove Julian mad; that was her answer.
A shudder ripped over his shoulders. It’d been too long.
Fingers tightening against the small of her back, Julian’s lips found her neck. He knew which spots to taste, to touch; the way feather-soft kisses made her squirm. He also knew which touches could drive her into a frenzy. The hand trapped atop hers twisted to touch her chest, running teasing lines over the swell of her breast.
With a soft moan, Penelope pulled them back a step to the dining table, taking a seat and welcoming him into the space between her thighs. She wanted more--more touch, more closeness. More, more, more.
Working his hand free from between them, Julian planted his hands against the polished mahogany on either side of her, caging her between him and the table. For the first time in over a year, his lips met hers in a surprisingly deep, languid kiss -- one completely out of character for the friction that lay between them.
Penelope sighed into Julian’s mouth, savoring the kiss while using what leverage she had to pull Julian down over her.
Her hips were pinned tightly against his own as he familiarized himself with the feel of her soft curves. It was just a sample, a tease of what else there was, and he wanted all of it. He wanted to run his hands over her pale skin again.
One hand braced on the table, he slid the other up her back to where her dress fastened. Fingers seeking out the zipper, he tugged it down slowly, the sound of the parting zip loud in his ears.
Lifting her hips, she let Julian push her dress off.
“Put that over the chair,” she murmured. “Or it’ll wrinkle.”
He was half-tempted to let the dress drop to the floor and ignore her. She hadn’t been quite so fastidious about her dresses when they’d been lying on the floor of his flat.
Julian pulled away, lips twitching at her soft sound of protest. He picked the silk dress up from the floor, letting his fingers slide over the silk material. He took his time, slowly smoothing the tiny creases out before he laid it gently over the back of the chair.
His eyes moved back to Penelope, taking in the sight she made in her black matching bra and knickers. Saying he’d almost forgot what she felt like beneath him would be a lie; he recalled all too easily the image of her naked body. Memory, though, was never quite the same as the reality in front of him.
“Not bad for carrying twins, I hope.” Penelope would never admit she was uncomfortable with Julian’s appraisal of her but, well, it had been a year. A year that had included childbirth.
Green gaze flickered up to meet her own, then drifted back down her body. Her curves -- already present to begin with -- were more prominent, her breasts slightly fuller than he remembered. If her stomach was softer than before, or her hips a tad more shapely, she was still an attractive and desirable woman -- no matter how he felt about her.
He didn’t answer out loud, instead ducking his head to press his lips to her neck once more. It wasn’t enough to look his fill; he wanted to touch.
Relief and pleasure washed over her as Julian ran his hands and lips over her body. Arching up against him, Penny thought that this was what she’d been wanting--human contact. Touch. It always seemed to come down to this between her and Julian, whatever this was. They met a need in the other--relieved a loneliness--one that no one else seemed to be able to meet, whatever they may say later.
Feeling that Julian was overdressed for the occasion, Penny pushed his jacket off his shoulders before trailing her hands down his chest to tug at the hem of this shirt.
His jacket fell to the floor, forgotten, as her busy little hands went to work on his shirt. She hadn’t lost the skill, flicking buttons open in rapid succession until the black material hung loosely on his frame. Not one to stand by idly when there was undressing to be done, Julian’s hands slid around Penelope to find the clasp of her bra.
The silk material fell away easily, revealing creamy skin to his touch. His lips continued to move across her body, trailing wet kisses down to her breasts.
Her head rolled back as his mouth took in a nipple, teasing the pebbled flesh with tongue and teeth to elicit a heady moan.
Pulling him back up so her lips could meet his, she wrapped her legs around his waist and whispered her only concession. “Please.”
Julian couldn’t help but smirk against her lips. Please. It sounded so pretty coming from her lips, the admission that she wanted this. She would deny it later -- claim she wanted nothing to do with him outside their children -- but he knew the truth.
He also knew, despite everything, he still wanted this, too.
His hands left over her soft body to work between them, undoing the buckle on his belt and pushing his trousers down. Julian cupped her sex possessively and groaned, the damp silk serving to show just how much she wanted him. Slipping one finger beneath her knickers, he pushed the flimsy material to the side and pushed into her waiting body.
Gasping at the intrusion, her hips bucked forward for more. Her hands clutched at his shoulders, wrinkling the shirt she hadn’t gotten around to taking off.
Bracing his hands on either side of her body, Julian withdrew, then thrust back into her waiting body with a smooth roll of his hips. He couldn’t help the way his body responded to hers, how easy it was to find a rhythm with her. As her legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him tighter against her, his lips found her throat.
Flesh meeting flesh, they moved together. Her breath hot in his ear as she moaned and panted with each new sensation. Her toes curled with the knowledge that they were having a slow, languid shag on her dining room table, blatantly there for any visitor or late night Floo caller to see.
Every little gasp and moan fueled their coupling. The way her body stretched and arched beneath his, her skin flushed pink and her lips parted and met his in a kiss -- it all brought back memories of previous liaisons. But no memory was as strong and erotic as the present moment; foregoing bed and all things proper in the rush of desire and want that still flowed between them.
When Penelope came, she was silent, biting her lip and clenching her entire body around him--nails and heels pressing their mark into his body. For a brief moment, nothing mattered except sensation. There was no trial, no children, no distance between them. Just this.
He was slightly disappointed; she sounded so beautiful when she came -- a pleasure she was denying him now. But when her body clenched around him, her nails marking his skin pressing home her climax, his own was ripped with an answered silence. Hips jerking raggedly, his teeth found the smooth skin of her shoulder, biting down as he thrust his last into her.
Heat pounding, she relaxed back onto the table and focused on her breathing as the feeling of euphoria faded. Her hand travelled upward to play with the damp strands at the back of Julian’s neck. His weight pressed against her while he was lost in his own afterglow.
She sighed as reality began to re-establish itself. “We shouldn’t have done that,” she said, sadly.
Julian closed his eyes and tried to ignore the knowledge that she was right. They shouldn’t have done that -- fallen back into their old routine. It was better to stay away. It was easier to pretend that what had happened between them was cut and dry; no emotion. But it wasn’t, and that he didn’t deny. He didn’t think she did, either.
“No, we shouldn’t have,” he said softly, straightening as he lifted his head from her shoulder and braced himself on his arms above her. There was a distance between them now, but their lower bodies were still connected in the most intimate of ways.
Silence stretched between them. There wasn’t anything else to say, Penelope thought.
She shifted, pushing up to sit and forcing him to step back. She adjusted her skirt and slid off the table. “I expect you can see yourself out.”
He readjusted himself, his familiar mask of indifference firmly back in place as he righted his trousers and summoned his robes. Meeting her gaze, his own devoid of any emotion with name, he inclined his head and Disapperated.
Alone, Penelope pinched the bridge of her nose. Be careful what you wish for, indeed.
Sighing again, she left the dining room, flipping the light off on the way out.