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…
I’ve been in a lot of weird situations over the years. As in, a lot, a lot.
Maybe never one quite as weird as this one, though.
Blasted Sidhe.
“So,” I said, eyeing ‘Gentleman’ Johnny Marcone warily across the lavishly decorated room.
“So,” he echoed, raising an eyebrow in return.
Awkward silence fell.
I cleared my throat, and definitely didn’t fidget nervously. “So I guess… this is it, isn’t it?”
Marcone’s lips twitched. Not that I was looking at them, mind you. “It would seem so.”
“For the record, if there was literally any other way out of this, we’d be doing that instead.”
Marcone rolled his eyes. “Yes, your heterosexuality in general and your loathing of me in particular have been sufficiently well-established, Dresden. Can we please get on with this? Some of us have more important things to be doing than… unkempt wizards.”
I managed to bristle and flush at the same time. Okay, so maybe I did need a haircut, sue me. It’s been busy lately. “Are you trying to make this harder than it’s already gonna be, Marcone?”
I realized what I’d said a split second later as the mob boss’s eyes flickered downwards and another amused smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. Fortunately, he left the cheap shot alone in favour of just ignoring the question entirely.
“So what exactly is it we need to do to be set free?” he asked instead, casting a thoughtful gaze over the very large bed. In the center of the room. Between us.
“Um. Fuck,” I supplied helpfully. “I thought that part was made… pretty damn clear already.”
Marcone stared at me flatly for a moment; then sighed, rubbing his temples. “You must be such a catch in the bedroom. What I meant, Casanova,” he continued before I could defend the slight against my less wizardly skills, “is what sorts of activities need to be involved in order to lift this… binding. Penetration? Oral sex? Would any kind of orgasms do, for example? I don’t particularly relish the idea of going through all this and discovering after the fact that we did something which didn’t count.”
Oh. Right. That was actually a pretty good point.
“Sadly, facing opposite corners of the room and jacking off won’t cut it,” I said, enjoying the wince that flickered over Marcone’s face at the phrase jacking off. “It’s about… the connection. We’d have to somehow be involved in each other’s… you know,” I said, gesturing vaguely. I was not blushing. Really. I wasn’t. “And chances are good it won’t work till we’ve both gotten off.”
Marcone sighed again.
And then he walked over to the bed, unbuttoning his no doubt unreasonably expensive suit jacket. “Very well, let’s get on with this. And remove that… jacket, please. It looks like it hasn’t been washed since the stone age.”
“Wow, you really know how to romance a guy,” I answered, trying to tamp down on my nerves as we started… undressing. I was only about to sleep with Marcone, after all. Chicago’s top mob boss. My nemesis, one might even say if one were inclined to dramatics. That was all.
No big deal, right?
“Don’t think I’ll start calling you John just because we have to bump uglies, Marcone,” I warned.
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Marcone said in an annoyingly amused tone, “Harry. Now relax and come here.”
“And just who put you in charge?”
“Your lack of a sex life, that’s who,” Marcone said bluntly, and oh, that was a low blow right there. How the hell did he even know— “I, however, actually know what I’m doing. Now lie down, close your eyes and think of whoever or whatever you need to, and let me get us out of this mess.”
“…All right,” I said, because it really wasn’t like we had any other choice, here.
I gingerly lay down on the bed in my t-shirt and jeans, and tried to think of something… stimulating. The mattress dipped as Marcone climbed on next to me, completely disrupting the smoking hot fantasy I hadn’t come anywhere close to building in my mind.
“On your stomach,” came Marcone’s voice, and it was weirdly… warm. Not his usual brisk, no-nonsense tone.
“Um. Why?” I asked.
“Harry.”
I rolled over, grumbling to myself. A moment later I tensed as Marcone straddled me, pretty much just… sitting on my ass.
“Alright, that’s a little too— mmmngl,” I garbled, eloquently, as Marcone interrupted my objection to him perching on my rear by pushing me back down and…
Rubbing my shoulders.
Really well.
“Okay, where the hell did you learn to do this?” I finally managed to ask a few minutes later, only slurring and drooling into the pillow a little bit while I did.
Marcone chuckled, and again, he didn’t quite sound like… him. I mean, he did, it was definitely still him, but… different.
“I’m allowed to keep some secrets,” he said mildly, and pushed my shirt up my back.
Warm, rough hands ran firmly over my bare skin, Marcone’s weight shifted on my ass and sent an unexpected little tingle through my belly; and the slightly disconcerting thought flitted through my mind for the first time since the whole thing started that…
Well, this might not be nearly as much of a chore to go through with as I thought it would be.
…