Bertie W. Higgs (cloudofsmoke) wrote in blurred_lines, @ 2008-12-15 23:57:00 |
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Bertie signed off on the last file that had been handed to him, blowing a long stream of smoke out the side of his mouth. A quick glance at the clock told him he was done for the day, officially. But he still had work to do. Bertie closed the file, put it in the proper drawer and pushed himself out of his chair. Hopefully, this would not take too long. It was a Monday after all. He took one last drag from his cigarette as he walked around his desk and then stubbed it out before he left his office. He walked straight to the training room, only sparing an investigatory glance over his squad as he left. As much as he wanted to say something about the general state of the desks, his attention was on the upcoming training exercise. His locker was as neat as his office, and it only took a moment to change into training gear. Bertie was in the training room a minute and a half early. Elle, however, was not an idiot. She knew how Higgs had run his department since taking over, and so ten minutes before she was off the clock, she changed into her training gear and went into the training room to stretch. She was already on the ground, halfway in split stradles, when he came into the room. She finished her stretch and then pushed to her feet. He was going to be stronger than her. She wasn't an idiot not to realize that. However, she'd learned awhile ago that strength, itself, wasn't everything. There was also agility and dexterity. And Elle possessed a lot of those. "Basic hand to hand, I'm assuming, sir?" Bertie idly stretched his arms, not very interested in a warm-up. This was an assessment, not a competition. He was testing her. And he didn't need to be especially limber to see how she would fare. He only gave a curt nod. "Including, but not exclusive to," he answered, taking a few steps toward her, but stopping short. Bertie wasn't a man who liked to waste time. He only looked at her for a second before slightly raising a brow. "Well?" Elle almost, almost rolled her eyes. The control freak was taking control. What a surprise. She made a gesture for him to start, but knew better, "Let's begin, then." She rounded him and gauged his movements. Stronger, yes, but she had the distinct height advantage. (It could be considered a disadvantage, but to her, the lower center of gravity was better.) She then closed the distance between them and feinted with a left jab and followed through with a right hook. Not exactly complicated, but she was starting with basics. He was gauging her skill, after all. Bertie pulled his head back, avoiding the hook with an almost irritating ease. He caught her wrist in an iron grip, stepped hard on her foot and pushed her forward, wanting to knock her flat onto the ground. He was gauging basics yes, but he wanted to see how she dealt with more unexpected moves. Desperate citizens fought differently, after all, and no trainee was really a hitwizard until they'd gotten the shit kicked out of them a few times. But that didn't mean they didn't put up a fight on the way. He underestimated her. That pissed her off. However, she kept her cool. She rolled her left wrist down hard against his thumb (the weak point of his grasp) and ducked under his arm. She brought her right arm back, hard to his stomach in order to release her foot and get behind him rather than in his line of attack. Bertie stumbled, catching his balance at the last second, the wind slightly knocked out of him. But it was barely a second and he was well aware of where she was. He twisted in the space of a quarter of a second, dropping to kneel and swept his foot under her feet. He wanted her on the ground. She jumped, barely in enough time. Okay. He was much better than she anticipated. That was her error for underestimating him. She drew a foot up and kicked him hard in the shoulder; if she could get him on the ground and off-balance, she could get the advantage over him. He caught himself, having to put an arm out, but staying mostly upright anyway. He used the different angle to kick her square in the stomach, needing to force her back so he could properly get back to his feet. She attempted to dodge the kick, but it caught her in the hip anyway. She stumbled backward two steps and settled herself back into her center. She then closed the distance and roundhouse kicked as she attempted to catch him across the face as he got to his feet. She took a calculated risk fighting more prominently with her legs; on the one hand she was stronger in her legs than in her arms, on the other, she was much more likely to be thrown off balance and hit the floor. She was willing to take that risk. Silly girl. Bertie was on his feet faster than most men his age ought to be, and pulled away from the kick without too much issue. He noted the extra use of her legs, mentally filing that away, remembering for when he had to send a trainee to her. Assuming, of course. Bertie had himself well grounded now. He didn't hesitate, throwing a left jab straight at her nose, following quickly by a right upper cut. Elle dodged the jab, her right palm pushing hard at his wrist to push it out of the way. However, the hook hit her in the jaw and so she spun in its direction of force to minimize damage. She spun, continuing the move so that her back was nearly against his chest. She latched her right leg around the back of his knee and jerked it forward, while she threw her shoulders back. It would probably land them both on the ground, but she needed him low. It did, in fact, land both of them on the floor. Bertie had wrapped an arm around her neck just before he went down, keeping her held firmly to his chest. With her foot behind his knee, he took quick advantage of it, pinning her legs down with his. And then in a fluid movement, he rolled them over, all but laying on her, his arm still pressed dangerously against her throat. He'd be impressed if she could find a way out of this one. He was stronger and heavier and he had her pinned. She struggled against him, but he had her against the throat, and any clear struggle restricted her breathing and made stars dance at the edges of her vision. He rolled them over, and she nearly got out of his grasp, but once his weight was on hers, she was done for. "Nice," she said; she was a touch out of breath because she'd struggled to breath when his arm was against her throat. There was the slightest sheen of sweat on her brow, but she still looked ready for another bout. But it was rather obvious (given his distinct advantage with her pinned) that this one was over. "You're much more inventive than trainees," she smirked, ever so slightly, "I'm surprised, since you sit behind a desk most of the time." Okay, so maybe insulting the Head of the Hitwizard Office when he had his arm against her windpipe wasn't the smartest idea, but how often would she be allowed to get away with it in any other situation? Bertie let the smallest of self-satisfied smirks touch his lips, deliberately cutting off her air flow for a few seconds. "I sit behind a desk for four months and yet you are still trapped under me," he almost hissed the words against her ear, his smirk apparent in his tone. "What does that say about you, I wonder." He let go of her, carefully untangling their legs and pushing himself back to his feet. He didn't look particularly winded. If anything, Bertie had rather missed being in the training room. It was a bit exhilarating, actually. "I'd say that it means that I have a trained Hitwizard, who weighs at least four stone more than me, nothing more, nothing less," once she was released, she got to her feet quickly. She wiped at her brow and with the disappearance of the sheen on her forehead, she looked like they hadn't even sparred, "Don't pretend that you think your Hitwizards in training are as good as you are." She rounded on him again, deciding to let him make the first move this time. This was fun, this cat and mouse with him, "If they were, you wouldn't be evaluating a female Auror to take them down." "No, I wouldn't dare to make such a claim," Bertie answered patiently. "But, they have to start somewhere, so I suppose a female Auror will have to do." He looked perfectly collected, at least until he took a vicious step toward her, his fist aiming to collide with her nose. He really shouldn't have said that... even if she had been goading him a bit. She promptly dodged and blocked the fist and then threw one of her own. It began a fluid and yet rather violent series of thrown and blocked punches and kicks; it almost seemed choreographed, the way they reacted to each other's techniques. He was good, that much Elle would admit. She was determined, however, to prove she was better. She did a catch step and then a round house kick to his head. She didn't expect it to land, but she felt the hair on his head brush against her ankle as she managed to complete the move. She spun with the momentum and then turned and jumped, tackling him to the ground. Once there were there, she pulled the same stunt, and pressed her forearm against his throat. She raised an eyebrow and smirked, "yes, I supposed a female Auror will just have to do." She pressed her forearm down a liTttle bit to restrict his air ever so slightly as she leaned down to whisper in his ear, much as he had done with her, "Never underestimate the enemy," she arched back up and let up on the pressure from her arm, "It's the whole reason Mill had me come help in the first place." She smiled wryly, "No one suspects the pretty blonde one." Bertie furrowed his brow, staring up at Elle from his spot on the floor. He hated this position. Women weren't allowed on top of him. Especially with an arm against his throat. That was Not Okay in his book. He clenched his jaw and then shoved her off of him, sending her tumbling to the side while he got back to his feet. Bertie carelessly wiped a drop of swear from his brow before it reached his eye. "Good," was his only word of approval. A very brief pause before. "Again." He was almost glaring daggers now. But it was her turn to start this time. She nearly laughed when he shoved her off of him; she had gotten under his skin and it amused her immensely. If looks could kill she'd be long gone by now and she couldn't help but be glad that this was hand-to-hand without wands. While she was certain she could take him in a duel, he was none too happy right now, and that would have ended up quite poorly for her. She only nodded in acceptance that he wanted another go, and she debated for a moment how to go. She was getting used to his fighting technique, and she needed another angle. She let an extremely long time go, before she double feinted two punches before bringing up her knee to his groin. Bertie felt like he had enough adrenaline in his system to kill a hippogriff. And as many years as he'd had in the field, he was familiar with the shift of weight that came with trying to kick a man in the bollocks. He sidestepped, but hooked his hand under her knee, a smirk pulling at his lips. "Bad move, Abercrombie," he commented dryly, far from relinquishing his hold, only taking a few steps forward. It would require her to hop with him, unless she wanted to fall. However, she chose another route. As soon as he caught her leg, she threw her arm around his neck and pulled up so when he moved, she just let her weight go. Not the smartest tactic, however, he was going to have to put her down before he could do anything. And he couldn't throw her, because she was holding onto him tightly. Her free hand went to his arm and grabbed right at the muscle in his forearm. She gripped hard, her thumb digging into the apex of the muscle in an upward motion. She needed him to buckle and loosen his grip so she could get her feet back on the ground. She'd made a stupid move and was now trying to redeem herself. Bertie cried out in surprise and pain as she nailed the pressure point, forcing his knees to buckle. He let go of her in a hurry, shoving her away from him. He mentally berated himself for letting his guard down. Enough of this. He attacked with an arsenal of kicks, jabs, punches and holds, a physical combination that showed why he'd been in this job for twenty-two years and why he sat behind the desk now. She managed to block a good amount, but he made impact more often than not. She was on the defensive and couldn't manage to gain enough of an upper hand to go on the offensive. Realizing if she didn't change the status quo significantly, Elle fell into a somersault just to get away from his barrage of attacks. She panted lightly; their sparring had been rather consistently fierce for awhile now, but she was still quite aware. She settled into a grounded stance, and when he came toward her, she settled into one leg and brought the other one up to kick at his stomach. Bertie almost swatted her foot away and threw his weight at her, catching her right in the ribs and sending them both to the ground. He pinned both hands above her head, that harsh, perhaps even painful grip clamping down on them. Sweat dripped down his back and he couldn't mask that his breath was coming more raggedly now. But he was squarely on top of her again, glaring at her under him. Yeah, he liked this better. He wasn't the only one breathing a bit heavily, and it was even harder for her because she'd been knocked backwards and now had Higgs on top of her, restricting the amount of air her lungs could intake. She returned his glare, but didn't bother struggling. He had her pinned, her hands were out of commission in his strong grasp and she wasn't going to be able to move with the way his weight was on her. She said nothing, but slowly, ever so slowly, the corner of her lips turned upward in a triumphant smirk. Yes, he had her pinned, but she'd gotten him angry. Her hand-to-hand skills had pushed his buttons, and she felt like she actually made the stoic Bert Higgs lose it, if just a little bit. Yeah, she liked that. The moments where they laid like that, with him pinning her to the ground with no words spoken, seemed to last forever. She wasn't sure what he wanted or why he was still there. She didn't break eye contact with him, not for one moment. She could feel his heart beating in his chest and his breath against her face. What was he waiting for? Merlin only knew what possessed her to do it. Maybe it was the feral instinct when sweat and heavy breathing were combined. Maybe she just wanted to see what it was like. Maybe there was a part of her that was turned on by his sense of control, even if she openly despised it on the floor. But he wasn't moving and the more they stared at each other, the more she couldn't explain why she was feeling the way that she was. So she closed the distance (which, strangely, was far too short of a distance to be considered normal under general pinning circumstances) and pressed her lips hard against his own. Bertie only resisted for a couple seconds before he was hungrily returning her kisses, wasting little time in deepening it. She was far too aggressive for his liking. Far too strong-willed. Anyone that could really make him angry enough to lash out like that had to be broken. And he could think of a few ways to do it. This way was preferable. Bertie let go of her wrists to reach down and pull her knee up to his hip, fingers biting into the muscle just enough to make her ache a little. He settled comfortably between her legs, pulling back from the kiss with a harsh nip at her bottom lip. For a brief moment when he didn't return the kiss, she realised what a stupid, idiotic, moronic thing this was to do. He was in a supervisorial position in the DMLE, he was technically her superior given that she helped out in the Hitwizard Office (the entire reason they were here), he was married, and it was Higgs. However... He didn't treat her like a doll. Everyone was so worried about Elle, they had forgotten that she was tough and strong. That there was a reason she was an Auror in the first place; there were plenty of other careers she could have gone into given her intelligence. And right now, he was the only one who seemed to realise that she was still capable. She gasped lightly into his kiss when he pulled her knee up, and she looped her heel to the inside of his leg. With her wrists free, she could have fought him off, but instead dragged her fingers through his hair, pulling roughly on whatever hair she could. She nipped his lip in return, and then pushed his face to the side with her chin and kissed and bit down his neck. Bertie contained a grunt, only briefly enjoying her teeth on him before he speared his fingers through her hair to tug and pull her head back, baring her neck for him. There was no way around it: he wasn't gentle. He bit at her neck and throat, just shy of breaking the skin every time he clamped down on her. He wanted to see how she would react to that. Her fiancée had been a werewolf. Perhaps she harboured some sort of fear. Or maybe she liked it. Either was fine with him. Both gave him a certain power over her. He didn't linger for too long though. Yes, he was a man who had no real loyalty to his wife any more. But most people thought otherwise. It wouldn't do to have the image ruined because he'd been careless. So he stopped, pulling away so he could stare down at her, considering. "If we were to continue, it would have to be at your place of residence," he stated simply. It wasn't a demand. Simply... informative, and only a little suggestive. She gasped and made a sound far too feminine and submissive for her liking. It was only a moment, but it had been so long since... Well, yes, Al had been a werewolf at the end, but he never put her teeth near her skin after the accident. The feeling was exhilerating and a bit dangerous and she liked it. She looked up at him when he stopped, certain he was going to claim this was a bad idea and he was married, and she thought he was going to blame it all on her. But she was shocked when he spoke, and more than a little... aroused by it. He may have thought he had the power over her... but she was thinking the exact opposite. "Well, then," she said, more than a little bit dismissive. She then leaned up and whispered her address in his ear, "I'll reset the wards." She looked at him anew for a moment, filled with a fire in the pit of her stomach, and then shoved him with a bit of annoyance, "I need to shower. Get up." Bertie quickly memorised her address and pushed himself off of her. He raised a brow half a centimetre at her irritation about needing a shower, biting back a comment about how she was going to need one after he was finished with her anyway. But instead, he gave a nod and turned back to the door. He rather wanted a shower too, after all. But only because he loathed getting his good clothes sweaty for no reason. "You'll do," he said as he opened the door. "I'll have trainees for you starting the middle of next week. Without further ado, Bertie turned his back to her and went back to the locker rooms to rinse off and get dressed again... and owl his wife that he'd be late again tonight. |