|gretchen watkins is the spice of life (swashbuckley) wrote in wished,|
@ 2010-11-29 21:05:00
Ever since their night with Natalie, and her subsequent realisation, Gretchen had been spending as much time away from Trevor as possible. It was a much more difficult task than one would suppose; they lived together and worked together, she couldn’t exactly skive off her job without having to answer to him, so she’d been spending her free time in pubs and with other men. She reckoned she must’ve slept with more men in the past week and a half than she had in the past five years, but she needed to prove to herself that things were still the same, that nothing had changed with her realising she was in love with Trevor.
It wasn’t working very well. Not only was she not enjoying her various sexual encounters as much as she usually did, she knew her absence was having a severely negative effect on Trev’s mood. She’d had several of their lackeys approach her, trying to figure out what was wrong with him. Not only that, but their conversation over the journals the previous night had ended horribly. He’d threatened to sever ties with her, and the fact that he could threaten that, threaten it and, she knew, mean it, threw her completely. In short, none of this was working.
She’d come back to the office, knowing Trev was elsewhere, hoping to get a little work done, get things in order so she didn’t have to stop by tomorrow when he would be here. One of their new employees, Roger, had been downstairs, guarding the store, stuck with the boring, pointless duty all new people got, and had followed her upstairs.
He wasn’t unattractive and at this point, she was desperate and reckless enough that she didn’t stop things when he brushed against her and arched an eyebrow. Maybe he’d heard she was easy, although until now she’d made it a point not to sleep with anyone in their crew, maybe he was just hoping to get lucky; whatever the reason behind his move was, it had worked because she was up on the edge of the desk, her skirt around her waist, her legs wrapped around him as he pounded away at her.
Anytime Gretchen pulled her distant act, Trevor fell into the foulest of moods. He was sulky, pouted and so on edge that he snapped at just about everyone over nothing. Even when it was only a few days he was insufferable, but her avoidance had dragged on for over a week and he was reaching an all time low.
The worst part of it all was that it was really getting to him, not just emotionally but mentally. He’d gotten home and comfortable when he realised there was an owl he actually needed that he’d left at the office. He’d only spent most of the day trying to remind himself to take it and Gretchen related thoughts had chased it from his mind. He was not in a good mood.
He Apparated into the front of the shop, noting right away that Roger was missing, a fact that only added to his foul mood. “Fuckin’ wanker,” he growled as he walked upstairs to the office, freezing as soon as he walked through the door and saw the pair on her desk. All he could do was stare as something broke inside him, filling him with an immediate rage.
“The FUCK!” He yelled, charging over as he gave in to the blind rage and all but tackled the other bloke. Roger yelped as Trevor grabbed him round the throat and flung him to the ground, landing on top of him as he proceeded to hit him repeatedly.
An interruption was the last thing Gretchen was expecting, especially not one in the form of a mightily angry Trevor. She let out a little noise as Roger was pulled back from her, things taking a moment to set in. “Trevor!” she shouted, leaping off the desk and yanking her skirt down. “Trevor, what the FUCK are you doing?!” Grabbing for her wand, she twitched it, magically separating the two men.
Roger looked like a mess, he was bleeding in several places, his face reddened and starting to bruise, but Gretchen stayed where she was, eyeing Trevor. She’d never seen him this mad before, not when things had gone wrong at work, not when she’d fucked up in Fez, not even when she’d mouthed off to Carrow. “What the fuck, Scabior?” she asked, keeping her eyes trained on him in case he went for the cowering Roger again.
“What the fuck me?” Trevor yelped, scrabbling to his feet from where she’d flung him to. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Gretchen?!” He yelled, wiping Roger’s blood off his forehead. He paced back toward her angrily, standing right in front of her and resisting the urge to leap on top of Roger again, sure she’d just pull him off. “You were fucking him!” Trevor glanced over at the other man and felt another surge of anger. “Fucking him!” he yelled as he ran back over and gave him a hard kick to the ribs, smiling with satisfaction when he heard a crack.
Crossing her arms over her chest, Gretchen stared Trevor down, her heart pounding in her throat; she’d never been afraid of Trev, not truly, even though she was well aware of what he was capable of. This moment, however, she felt if she were smarter, she would be. She saw the movement before he drew his foot back and managed to keep from starting as she heard the other man’s rib crack. “Yeah, I was.” She shot back, angrily. “And I hadn’t quite cum yet, so cheers for the interruption.” Roger was writhing with pain, clutching his side but Gretchen found she didn’t care, he meant next to nothing to her.
Trevor kicked out again, landing another resounding blow squarely in Roger’s side, letting all his aggression out in the move. For the moment he forgot about Gretchen standing off to the side, her cracks no more than a buzzing in his ear as he reached down and grabbed a fistful of Roger’s hair. “Fuckin’ ‘ope you enjoyed that,” he muttered, yanking the man off the ground and landing a blow in his stomach, letting go of him so he’d fall right into the knee Trevor brought up to meet his face, another crack signalling a broken nose.
Although she didn’t care about Roger’s well being, it wouldn’t do well for Trevor to kill one of their associates and she darted forward, forgoing her wand and grabbing his arm. “Scabior!” she yelled, yanking him with all her strength. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?!”
“‘E was fuckin’ you!” Trevor spat, ripping his arm out of her grip, only just keeping himself from throwing her aside in the process. “Watkins,” he spat, putting a ridiculous embellishment on her name, since she insisted on calling him by his surname. “You’re mine!” He explained, the explanation working him back up and he dug into his pocket for his wand spinning around to find Roger, pausing when he realised the other man had crawled away when he wasn’t looking.
At Trevor’s exclamation, Gretchen’s jaw actually dropped. She took a step back, instinctively raising her wand and silently disarming Trevor, snatching his wand out of the air. “I’m what?” she echoed, unsure if she should be pleased or furious. Before he could answer, she pointed at Roger. “Get the fuck out of here,” she ordered, her voice dangerously quiet. Knowing Trevor as well as she did, Gretchen stepped towards him, latching onto his arm again to keep him from lunging at Roger who, not needing to be told twice, disapparated.
“Fuck!” Trevor jerked his arm back and shoved away from Gretchen, stomping angrily over to the blood streaked spot on the floor Roger had just disappeared from. “Fuck!” He repeated and grabbed the chair next to him, flinging it at the wall to try and blow of some of his anger which wasn’t about to be released anytime soon.
Ignoring Gretchen, he stomped back over to his desk and ripped a drawer out, grabbing the bottle of whiskey he knew was in there. If there was ever a time he needed a drink, this was it, he thought, ripping out the cork and downing several swigs.
“Trevor.” Stumbling back away from him, Gretchen wasn’t able to keep from starting at the sound of the chair smashing apart against the wall. She was still clutching his wand, her shirt still twisted from where Roger had yanked it up. She thought she knew Trev quite well, he very rarely did things that surprised her, but this had completely thrown her for a loop. It wasn’t as though she’d thought he would be happy to walk in on her shagging someone, but this reaction wasn’t anything she could’ve ever anticipated. “What the fuck just happened?”
“What the fuck just ‘appened?!” It was only through great restraint that Trevor refrained from chucking the bottle at the wall as well. Instead he took another healthy swig and pointed at her as he tried to form words. “You shagged ‘im!” It wasn’t eloquent and it certainly wasn’t new information but it was all Trevor could get out. He managed that much and this his head would replay the image and he’d lose his train of thought again, merely getting pissed that Roger had escaped before he’d gotten all his aggression out.
Setting his wand down, Gretchen folded her arms over her chest. “He was shagging me. So?” she responded, archly, giving in to her own simmering anger. So it was alright for him to go out and fuck others but she couldn’t? Never mind that she would much rather have had Trevor between her legs, it was the principle of the matter.
“Yeah and ‘es fuckin’ dead,” he scoffed, wiping at his face to try and get all the splatter off.
“No, he’s not.” she shot back, angrily, not even really caring if Roger was dead or not. “What the hell gives you the right to do that? You go out and shag people all the time and I’ve yet to kill any of them!” She gestured to the desk beside her. “It’s not as though we were even on your desk!”
“I don’t fuckin’ care whose desk you were on!” Sputtering, Trevor slammed the bottle down on the desk with such force it sloshed over his hand. “I don’t shag people all the time,” he whined, launching off the desk and over toward her, stepping up close. Truth was he couldn’t think when the last time he’d shagged anyone that wasn’t her, so long as you didn’t count their threesome with Natalie. He looked down at her, inches away from him and sneered at the thought of what she’d just been doing.
Swallowing, Gretchen tipped her head back and met his gaze, schooling her face into impartiality. “You do often enough,” she responded, unable to keep emotion out of her voice, no matter how hard she tried. “So, I let some bloke fuck me,” she continued, choosing her words deliberately, even though she knew they’d wind him up even more. “So the fuck what?”
“So the fuck what,” he squawked incredulously. “You don’t fucking know who I do or don’t fuck,” he spat, grabbing her wrists and pushing her back against the desk forcefully. “I fuck you,” he said slowly, pushing his face right up to hers. “And you don’t fuck bloody wankers like ‘im, in my fuckin’ office.” He squeezed her wrist once before he let go, shooting her a look of disgust as he went back to the bottle.
“Why the fuck would you let that git even touch you,” he muttered, downing more whiskey even as the liquor started to catch up to him and slow his anger.
Gretchen had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from making a noise as Trevor pressed up against her. Her heart beating in her ears, her fingers clenched around her wand, it occurred to her for the first time ever in their entire relationship that Trevor, reckless, impetuous, dangerous Trevor, might be someone she should fear. He released her and she stepped back away from him, hating that he could make her feel like that. “Because he wasn’t you,” she responded, her voice hard.
“Oh, fuck you, too, Watkins,” he spat, throwing a disgusted look at her before he walked around the desk to drop heavily into his chair. He hadn’t even done anything to her to piss her off, she couldn’t blame this fucking shite on him.
She hadn’t meant it like that, but now that it was out, she wasn’t going to take it back, not when he’d looked at her like that. “What the fuck do you even care who I shag?” she asked, taking another step back and leaning against her desk, staring across the room at him. “It’s not as though I’m ever going to turn you down.”
“That’s not the point,” he spat quietly, staring at the papers on his desk. “You’re mine,” he muttered again. He paid more attention to the words this time, finding himself surprised to say them and realise that’s how he felt, that it wasn’t just a passing wave of possessiveness. “And you don’t fuck Roger in our office when you know I could be ‘ere anytime.” The thought that she’d even thought that was anything but wrong riled him again and he slammed back another swig, spinning his chair so it’s back was to her. He could feel the anger boiling up in him again and he did his best to try and keep it down.
It took Gretchen a long moment to respond. She’d caught his words before, but she’d thought it was just his rage speaking. “I’m what?” she asked again, her voice barely above a whisper as she stared at the back of his head. She felt surprisingly calm, the whole situation was just surreal, she felt almost as if she were dreaming this all.
Trevor caught her question but chose to ignore it, content to sit in his chair with his back to her and brood over the situation. The third of a bottle he’d consumed in just a few minutes caught up to him and he took a sip as he stared drunkenly at the label, thinking about how dumb Roger would have to be to show up for work the next day and what he’d do to the bastard if he actually did.
“Trevor,” he didn’t answer her and she grit her teeth, hesitating only momentarily before crossing the room and grabbing the back of his chair, spinning him around to face her. “What did you say?” Her face was serious, her brows knit, as she leaned over, gripping the arms of his chair.
Picking at the bottle’s label, Trevor's eye merely flicked up when she leaned over him. He focused on the bottle and ignored her presence for a few more moments. “Wha?”
“I’m yours?” The words didn’t feel as odd coming out of her mouth as she thought they would and she had to take a moment to breathe, to keep from admitting her earlier realisation. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” She had to fight the urge to reach up and clean Roger’s smeared blood from Trev’s face, tightening her grasp on the chair to keep herself from moving.
“What the ‘ell,” he groused, rolling his eyes as he took another swig and slumped in his chair. “Means you’re fuckin’ mine. What’d you miss?” He said, snerking.
Reaching out, Gretchen snatched the bottle out of his hand and took a swig of her own, walking a few steps away from. “You want to know why I was fucking Roger?” She asked, turning away from him, unintentionally mirroring his earlier position. It was now or never, she told herself. She could hope that he was drunk enough that he might not even remember her admission when he woke up.
“Obviously because you want ‘im dead,” he pointed out, glancing around for a moment, trying to remember where he’d put the bottle.
“Because I’m a fucking idiot,” she took another, longer swig and folded her arms over her chest, staring out the window. “And I’ve apparently gone and fallen in love with you.”
Craning over the arm of his chair to look behind him for the bottle, Trevor paused. He sat up and looked back at Gretchen, wondering if he’d heard her right or not. “That’s fuckin’ stupid,” he pointed out, lounging back again. “You fuck me if you love me so much.”
“I do fuck you, you arse. I fuck you all the time.” She turned back to him, taking another long sip. There were quite a lot of things that Gretchen was good at, but emotions were not one of them. She wasn’t sure how to explain her actions to Trevor because she couldn’t quite explain them to herself. “Love is fucking complicated and you don’t do complicated,” she tried, reaching back and pulling her chair out to sink into.
Trevor pushed against the floor, spinning his chair to face Gretchen and slumped on his desk, propping up his heavy head with one hand. “I do you,” he pointed out.
It was times like this that Gretchen wondered why she’d stayed around Trevor for so long. “Trevor, will you fucking try to focus?” She took another swig of the whiskey, setting the bottle down on her desk and hesitating before continuing. “I fucking love you.” The words were easier to say this time but she wasn’t sure if that was because she was coming to terms with the fact or because he was apparently too drunk to understand her.
“I am fuckin’ paying attention!” He pushed himself up slightly and leaned over the desk, looking at her sharply. “You’re not complicated,” he added, trying to explain his last statement, not sure why she was so upset over it.
His response stopped her, not at all what she’d thought he was going to say. “I’m not?” she leaned back in the chair and studied him. “You don’t care?” She picked up the bottle, taking a swallow and turning it over in her hands, peeling the label where he’d started to pick at it.
“S’your problem, isn’t it?” He pushed back against the desk and kicked his feet up, tilting the chair back. He chuckled to himself for a moment before he looked back over at her and crooked a finger, beckoning her over.
Frowning, Gretchen stared across the room at him, stubbornly. “I’m not the one who almost killed someone because they were shagging someone else, now am I?” She shot back, not giving in to her urge to obey his summons.
Trevor’s brow crumpled and he stared at her, stopped from getting up to fetch her himself by confusion. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“Not just my problem, is it?” She shot back, archly, peeling a long strip of label off the bottle. She couldn’t exactly fault him for not understanding, it had taken her ages to finally realise, and Trevor was not nearly as emotionally intelligent as she was.
“You’re in love,” Trevor pointed out, again gesturing lazily for her to come over. “With me. And I’m brilliant,” he added laughing. “But that’s you’re problem, innit?” He ran a hand through his hair, leaving it ruffled and messy as he thought. “And you shouldn’t fuck fuckin’ Roger.”
“Sure,” Gretchen drawled, rolling her eyes and folding one leg over the other. “You nearly killed Roger because you were, what, concerned for my reputation?” She snorted and shook her head, wondering if she should spell it out for him.
“No,” he pouted, wishing he had his bottle back. “I already told you.”
Honestly, he was like a child sometimes. Gretchen shook her head again, wondering what the fuck was wrong with her that Trevor was the person she’d fallen in love with. “You love me,” she said simply, taking a long swallow from the bottle, unable to remember how many drinks this made and when the last time she’d had anything to eat was.
Trevor stared at her for a moment, blinking at her statement. He didn’t know what to say to it and didn’t even know what to do until he started laughing. He shook his head and wrapped his arms around himself as he laughed hard at her suggestion. She might have done something silly like fall in love but that was not something he did. He laughed until he lost his balance and toppled his chair over backwards, interrupting his laughter only to curse.
It was only with huge effort that Gretchen managed to stay seated as Trevor flipped backwards, out of his chair. She couldn’t, however, manage to stay serious, bursting out in laughter as he swore. “You do!” she crowed, after a few moments. Sure, she might be in love with him, but she knew he was just as much in love with her and she could certainly rub it in his face. “You love me so much, you want me all to yourself!”
“That’s not love!” He squawked, fighting with his jacket to untangle himself and get up, flailing slightly. “That’s just greed! Fuck!” Losing his battle with his own coat, Trevor cursed loudly and flopped against the ground with a huff. “Gretch!” he finally barked, ready for her to come over and quit hiding out behind her desk.
Heaving a sigh, Gretchen took another long swig, setting the bottle down and pushing herself to her feet. She wobbled for a moment before regaining her balance. Crossing the room, she stood above him, looking down at him and silently berating herself for falling in love with that. “It’s not just greed,” she corrected, poking him gently in the side with her toe. “Why else do you scare all the gits who work for us when I’m not around?” She gestured to the office, bending and setting Trevor’s chair right, but making no move to help him.
Still flat on his back, Trevor looked up at Gretchen in confusion, his brow furrowing again. “I don’t scare them,” he countered. As far as he was concerned he didn’t scare them any more when she wasn’t around than he would on a normal daily basis.
“You do,” She crossed her arms over her chest, resisting the urge to kneel down beside him. “It’s cos you miss me,” she pulled a face, sing-songing the last words and conveniently ignoring the fact that she missed him just as much.
“‘Ey, yeah!” Trevor’s drunken mind moved at a different pace than hers and he suddenly caught up to a point which wasn’t exactly the one she was intending for him to get. “You were gone all week!” He hated when she was gone. “Don’t fuckin’ do that...” He fought to get up and extricated himself from his coat, pushing himself up halfway as he shot her a hurt glare.
Heaving a sigh, Gretchen folded down to her knees beside Trevor, wondering what he’d do without her. “Why not?” she asked, her voice prompting him, hoping he’d come to the same conclusion as she had because if not, she was going to regret admitting what she had. She knew he’d hold it over her for as long as he possibly could.
Again he gave her a blank stare, not understanding the underlying meaning of all the things he’d always taken for granted. “Because I don’t like when you’re gone, do I?” He muttered, moving a hand to scratch the back of his head and hitting the ground abruptly, forgetting he’d been supporting himself with that hand.
Absently resting her hand on his chest, Gretchen pondered how long it would take him to get on the same page as she was. “And why not?” she asked again. How she’d managed to fall in love with someone like this, she would never understand.
“But...” Trevor shook his head, sort of understanding what she was trying to get him to think but just on a different page than her. “That’s because you’re you...” he explained, love not making enough of a blip on his radar to make sense to him.
“No,” she corrected him, running a hand through her hair. “It’s because you love me. You’re basically a great big girl’s blouse, Scabior.” Settling to the floor beside him, Gretchen folded her arms over his chest, resting her head on them. “You know, this means your cousin was right,”
“I am fucking not,” Trevor yelped, struggling to fight gravity and lift himself back up. “Love is all...weak and shite. And I’m bloody not!” He gave up the fight to sit up when he realised it meant dislodging her and that he was too drunk and lazy for that much work, and dropped back down.
“Oi!” Gretchen frowned and lifted her head enough to poke him in the chest. “You think I’m weak?” Never mind that that had been her exact thought process, hearing Trevor say it made it more real and brought up her defences.
“What? No!” He shook his head and wrapped an arm around her waist to hold her where she was in case she got the bright idea to move away from him. “We’re not weak,” he explained, trying to figure out how to voice his thoughts without pissing her off further. “You an’ me, we’re all the opposite of that! So, can’t be, can it?”
Smiling despite herself, Gretchen moved in his arms, snogging him. “Then what is it?” she asked, settling back against him. “I mean I’ve never been in love, but I’m pretty sure that’s what this is.”
Trevor considered the statement for a few moments, his face a mask of thoughtfulness. “Well...” he started, trying to focus on the red head. “You’re not gonna change on me or anything...And you gotta knock off that fuckin’ shagging blokes like Roger,” he continued, putting particular distaste on the name. “And then...it’s like now, innit?”
“I’ll stop shagging blokes like Roger, if you’ll stop shagging birds like Delaney,” Gretchen retorted sweetly, her smile widening. Curling her feet to the side, she draped herself over Trevor, resting her head on her arms as he thought. “You love me,” she grinned, after a moment, lazily reaching a hand out to tangle through his hair.
"I don't shag Delaney," Trevor spat, making a face at the suggestion he'd still see her after all that had happened. "I shag you," he added thoughtfully, eyes rolling up as he thought about whether he'd even shagged anyone but Gretch in awhile. His hand felt his side, trying to find his wand to summon the bottle of whiskey.
“You did,” Gretchen pointed out, idly toying with the ends of his hair. “I didn’t like that,” she continued, since they were being honest. She smiled faintly, missing the movement of his hand. “I wanted to punch her in her stupid, smug face when she was talking about shagging you,” she arched an eyebrow and looked down at him. “Didn’t though. What are you going to do about Roger?”
Trevor grinned, he liked when she played with his hair, and forgot about his missing wand for a moment. "Ha!" he laughed sharply, "I would 'ave loved to see that," there was no way Delaney would have lasted even a round with Gretch.
His expression darkened slightly at the mention off the other man, the image of the two of them reasserting itself. "That fucker isn't thick enough to come back," he griped. And if he was, Trevor sincerely hoped Gretch wouldn't be around to stop him.
“Trevor,” Gretchen sighed, curling her legs and tucking herself closer to him. “You do realise that you can’t actually just kill someone because they fucked me, aye?” She arched an eyebrow, moving enough to kiss him lightly. “You’d have more people to kill than you can count.” She didn’t sit back, staying a few inches back from him and studying his face, a slight smile quirking her lips. It was a moment before she reached up, cupping his cheek and swiping at the blood on his face with her thumb.
"Why can't I?" Trevor's arm tightened around her, holding her against him. "I'll..." he stopped, registering her statement and coughed. He wanted to ask how many he was going to have to kill but thought better of it.
His head tilted slightly, wondering why she was looking at him so. "Wha?"
“Nothin’” She lied, easily, dragging her eyes away from his face. She wrinkled her nose and shook her head as she settled back. “You can’t because you can’t just go round murdering blokes because I happened to spend a night with them. Think about if you got caught. We’d have to waste loads of gold paying a barrister to get you out of Azkaban. You should just use that gold to buy me something.”
"Well....they deserve it," he slurred quietly, throwing his other arm back around her. "Wankers," he snorted, closing his eyes as he stroked her shoulder. "You won't miss anything, not with 'em."
Shaking her head, Gretchen moved slightly, towards his hand. “They deserve to die because they realised how brilliant and sexy I am?” she scoffed, running her fingers along the buttons of his shirt.
“Exactly!” Trevor said, his volume spiking abruptly. He laid there silently stroking her arm for a few moments before he remembered his quest from earlier and lifted his head an inch, eyes opening just enough to see her. “‘Ey. Where’s my wand?” He mumbled, looking around them as if it’d merely fallen out of his pocket.
“I took it away from you earlier,” she answered, simply, raising her own wand and lazily summoning his. “So you wouldn’t kill someone for no reason.” Holding his wand out for him, she ducked her head and only released her grip on it when he kissed her. “Reasonable killings only, Trev.”
“Killing Roger is perfectly reasonable,” he said into the kiss. He held her against him and deepened the kiss, slipping his wand into his pocket before he wrapped the other arm around her. “Can I maim ‘im, at least?”
Twisting in his arms, Gretchen stretched out next to Trevor, tucking herself against him. “I think you already did. And do you know what reasonable means?” she asked, winding her fingers through his hair.
“Didn’t even get to ‘ex ‘im,” he pouted, leaning his head toward her hand. “And ‘e’ll recover just fine.” His dismay at that thought was evident in his voice and he rolled his head over to look at Gretchen, staring blearily at her for a moment before he moved in and kissed her.
“Maybe you emotionally maimed him?” Gretch suggested. He had looked completely terrified, though anyone in their right mind would have. She arched towards Trevor and accepted the kiss, grinning wickedly. “If you really want to hex someone, I can go down to the pub and find someone to fuck.”
“No!” Trevor pushed back firmly, glaring at her until he assessed whether she was joking or not. He registered the mischievous grin and snerked. “You want me to kill someone go right on ahead.”
Gretchen couldn’t help but laugh; it was so easy to wind Trevor up, she couldn’t help giving in to the urge every time it cropped up. “I have a better idea,” she responded, pulling out of his arms and straddling him.
“Seems better,” he said slowly, his smile growing as she settled on top of him. His hands slid up her thighs coming to rest on her hips as he looked up at her, forgetting about her teasing. “Tell me more.”
Thoroughly enjoying the feel of his fingers gently gripping her hips, she moved, pressing against him. “You could,” she started, wide grin still firmly in place. “Show me how much you love me.”
Smirking, Trevor reached up and placed his hand on the back of her neck, tugging her down for a drawn out kiss. He didn’t bother to confirm or deny her suggestion, her merely kissed her for a few moments and ran his fingers under her shirt and over the smooth skin of her stomach and back.
“Oi,” she murmured, reluctantly pulling back from his kiss. “I think you’re forgetting something,” unable to stop herself, she danced her fingers down his shirt, undoing the buttons as she went. It was only fair, she’d confessed, he had to say it, too.
Trevor watched her fingers as they worked their way down his buttons. He knew what Gretchen wanted him to say but he couldn’t come right out with the words. It wasn’t a concept that came naturally to him, he’d certainly never felt that way before, but he’d also never been so reckless as to be absolutely ready to kill some bloke over a woman. But then, he considered, Gretchen wasn’t just some woman, she was Gretchen. “I love you,” he mumbled, quickly and quietly, feeling incredibly awkward as he watched the last button pop.
Gretchen had never ever been one of those women in love with the idea of being in love. It had always seemed incredibly messy and boring; even when she’d been younger, in Hogwarts, she’d always been sceptical about it. Sure, she’d liked the first bloke she’d slept with, but love? That all encompassing, logic clouding, useless emotion she’d heard so much about from her classmates? Hardly. Her parents hadn’t been in love. And her mum certainly hadn’t been in love with all the many blokes she’d been with before Augustus. Love wasn’t required to live, Gretch was proof of that, and it didn’t seem nearly worth the pain and drama it seemed to cause.
She’d had men tell them they loved her before, that had also been the last thing they’d generally ever said to her. She never thought that she would want to hear the admission, and she’d definitely never thought that it would make her feel as happy as she did right now. She grinned widely, wrinkling her nose in pleasure and sitting back from Trevor to yank her top off and toss it to the side. It was a long moment before she could level her voice enough to respond and she took the opportunity to reach between them and pop the button on Trev’s pants, lowering the zipper and reaching in to wrap her fingers around him. “Good,” she chirped, stroking her fingers along his length and moving down to kiss him. “Now we’re even.”
“Mm, yeah,” Trevor’s eyes slid shut for a moment, shifting and lifting his hips toward her hand. “Fuckin’ brilliant,” he muttered as he reached up and held her in the kiss. He laced his fingers through her hair, appreciating how short it was and how easily he could twist it around his fingers. The other hand he wedged between them, palming her breast roughly, tugging on her nipple til he managed to get a gasp from her.
Tugging at his pants, Gretchen leaned back on his thighs, reluctantly moving away from his hand to pull him further out. “We are, aren’t we?” she grinned, raising up and moving forward, settling herself on him, with a low moan.
It wasn’t exactly what he meant but Trevor saw no reason to split hairs at the moment. He let out a groan of his own as she mounted him, his hands sliding over her to settle on her hips. “Fuck, Gretch,” he muttered, rocking his hips rhythmically.
It took Gretchen a few moments to be able to speak, the feel of Trevor inside her monumentally better than Roger or any of the other men she’d shagged this past week. “So this love thing,” she started, matching his rhythm. “Does this mean I can’t shag anyone but you?”
“Someone can fuck you better than this?” Trevor grunted, making a point to thrust his hips up, harder than before. He’d always known Gretchen slept with other people, same as he had, but it’d never been something he thought of, both because it just wasn’t something worth thinking about and because it wasn’t something he particularly liked thinking about. Trevor honestly didn’t believe Gretchen was going to find a better shag than him at any rate.
Gretchen made a noise that was a mixture of a gasp and a moan, tipping forward and grabbing him. “Maybe,” she retorted, breathlessly, kissing him desperately, her words at odds with her actions. “I’ll have to fuck some other guys to find out though.”
“Fuck no,” he grunted, catching the back of her head before she could move back and pulled her in for another kiss. His hand twisted into her hair, holding her close, as the other hand gripped her hip tightly. He held her against him as he rocked his hips roughly thrusting himself deep inside her.
“Don’t you want me to have an accurate opinion?” She asked, trying not to groan as he fucked her. His abrupt entrance had interrupted her earlier and though Roger hadn’t felt as good as Trevor did, she’d still been close to cumming before Trev’s untimely appearance. He gripped her hip, holding her close as he fucked her and she had to bite her lip to keep from moaning his name. She didn’t know how he was able to do it, but he was able to make her cum faster than anyone else she’d ever slept with.
“Not really,” he grunted again, pushing on her hip to encourage the way she moved against him. Fucking Gretchen was always so much greater than with any one else, he wasn’t sure what it was exactly but it was more fun and just felt better. “You’re mine, remember?” He looked up at her at the last part, curious to see what reaction the possessive declaration would have on her, especially given what all it’d brought up earlier.
“Oh, am I?” Gretch arched an eyebrow, circling her hips as she met his thrusts. Deep down, and not so deep down if she was honest, she knew he was right. At this point, with how long they’d been working together, how long they’d known each other, she couldn’t think of anything she wouldn’t do for Trevor, especially given her recently discovered feelings. That didn’t mean she had to let him know that, though.
Grinning, Trevor brought his other hand down to her hip, smacking her lightly in the process. He pressed down on her hips as he ground up, letting his frustration that he couldn’t pin her and fuck her out in each heavy thrust. “Yeah.”
Arching back up, she let out another groan. “I’m not sure how I feel about that,” she lied, biting her lip and doing her best to keep from cumming. “Yeah, I’ve fucked a fair few, but there are loads of blokes who I haven’t shagged. Just you for the rest of my life? I dunno...”
“I can not fuck you,” he said tauntingly, stilling his hips and loosening his grip. “That suit you better, would it?” He watched her bite down and let his grin show, well aware she was on edge and that stopping would drive her mad.
It drove Gretchen absolutely insane when Trevor teased her like this and he was the only one who had ever been able to do so. She was well fit and she knew it, she was very aware that she could walk outside and find someone else to satisfy her within a few minutes and had always made use of that knowledge. Trevor was different. She didn’t want to find someone else to fuck her. She wanted Trevor to dig his fingers into her hips and bury himself in her, to yank her hair and make her scream. “No,” she whimpered, grinding down against him, desperately.
“It’s not?” He asked lightly, being sure to keep his hips still and not give her any advantage. “Yeah, what do you want then?”
“Trevor,” she whined, not wanting to give in despite her frustration. She’d already weakened herself in front of him, by admitting she loved him, she didn’t want to do it again, but knew she wasn’t going to be able to hold out much longer.
“You mine?” Trevor raised an eyebrow, trying to play cool even as Gretchen dragged out their little intermission. He could see what it was doing to her and only hoped his frustration wasn’t showing as easily. All he wanted to do was slam back into her and make her scream but he’d started the little game and he wasn’t about to be the first to back down. Hoping to encourage her along he brought his hand down on her arse, slapping it just enough to surprise her. “Go on.”
Letting out a choked yelp at his slap, Gretchen toppled forwards, sliding her fingers through his hair and snogging him desperately. “I’m yours,” she gasped, her need plainly evident in her tone. “I’m yours, Trevor. Please, fuck me.”
Happy to oblige, Trevor grabbed her hips and brought his own up in one quick movement. He rocked off the floor, slamming into her with all the built up urgency. He grunted as he felt himself hitting his edge and didn’t worry about holding himself back as he knew Gretchen was moments away as well. “Ride me,” he grunted quietly, encouraging her to grind against his wild thrusts.
Gretchen obeyed, unthinkingly, tipping back and circling her hips, grinding down against him. “Trevor,” she let out a trembly moan, throwing her head back. “Come in me,” she begged, although there was no need to. He always did, and he was the only one she’d ever enjoyed it with. The words were barely out of her mouth when she came hard, clenching around him and letting out a short scream as he followed her, burying himself in her.
When he released her, she slipped forward, tucking herself against him, her heart racing. She wound herself around him, resting her head against his chest. “I love you?” she murmured, after a moment, the words still sounding odd coming out of her mouth. She felt weird, vulnerable and awkward and, in an attempt to cover the moment, she reached over him and grabbed her wand, conjuring a blanket and tapping the floor to warm it, the chill reminding her just how little she was wearing.
Trevor had slept with a number of women in his life, and he knew there was good sex and bad. But sex with Gretchen deserved a category all to itself. A fantastic category at that. He rocked his hips off the ground thrusting up as he watched her come. “Fuck,” he groaned loudly, arms wrapping around her immediately as she folded on top of him.
He loosened his hold as she shifted around and squeezed tighter when she settled beside him. He lowered his lips to her head and kissed it lightly, watching as she conjured up a blanket for them. “Me too,” he mumbled, after a moment, feeling his eyelids droop from a mixture of alcohol and post-coital high. The words I Love You felt awkward and foreign to him and even if he felt that way, saying it twice in just a few minutes, more than any time in his life, wasn’t something that came easily. But he hugged her against him, hoping she wouldn’t take his answer as reason to start trying to drag it out of him again.
Pressing herself comfortably against him, Gretch burrowed under the blanket, smiling. She didn’t want to think about the weakness attributed to love, or the complications and drama that always seemed to be brought about by it. She and Trevor were brilliant. They were smart and successful, wildly rich and good looking. Just because they happened to love each other didn’t mean that everything was going to be shite now. They’d make things work, they’d always managed to so far.
“Mmm,” she hummed lightly, wrapping an arm around him. “I think I could handle doing that for the rest of my life,” she murmured, grabbing her wand and twirling it to set the wards on the office. She was comfortable and sated, she saw no reason to leave and go back home at this point.
“Mmhmm,” Trevor nuzzled her head as sleep started to settle over him. “S’good idea,” he slurred, chuckling lightly at nothing in particular. He stilled for a moment, hovering in that stage in between awake and passed out and squeezed her once. “Don’t fuck Roger while I’m asleep,” he muttered, his words trailing off.
Rolling her eyes, Gretchen snorted, resisting the urge to pull back and slug him. “I’ll try not to,” she responded, twisting in his grasp slightly to get comfortable. “And if I can’t resist him, I’ll make sure to keep quiet so we don’t wake you up.”
Trevor grunted and flicked her arm, too lazy to come up with an actual comeback right away and stalled. “You’d keep quiet cos ‘es shite.”
“Trevor,” Gretchen sighed and shook her head, moving in his arms so she could arch up towards him and press a quick kiss to his lips. “Shut the fuck up.”
“What if I don’t wanna,” he said with as much irritability as someone in his position could manage to muster. He kissed her back eagerly, moving in for another when she tried to pull away. “Love you, Gretch,” he muttered sleepily, giving it a try before he gave up and passed out beneath her.