WHO: Thomas McCormack and Cara Flume WHAT: Making the best of a situation WHERE: Some...event! WHEN: Last night?
It would not be an exaggeration to say that Thomas chased Cara out of the hall.
What else could be expected, really, when long gazes were shared, quick quips were said as they passed, and light brushes that could quite possibly be phantom touches teased? This game he and Cara had been playing for the last few weeks, though perhaps others would define it differently, had him feeling and behaving like the fifth year he hadn’t been. There had been hiding behind tapestries of course, but to completely lose focus on the conversation he was having? To push her almost brusquely through the nearest door without much of a word?
He could certainly get used to this.
The door had unfortunately not led to the most comfortable of locations, but instead to something of a kitchen supply closet? Thomas recognized a few utensils that his hand had knocked down whilst pressing against Cara, causing them to clatter to the floor, but he was more focused on the blasted clasps of her robes.
“Were these tied with a hex?” he grumbled, head ducked against her shoulder as his fingers fiddled.
A husky laugh escaped her, although there was nothing funny about the situation. The sentiment was more about commiseration, as she keenly understood Thomas's frustration. They didn't have long, so the less time spent with clothes on, the better.
And Cara was nothing if not pragmatic.
After a few abortive moments passed, she murmured, "Just rip the—" her words ending in a gasp as the sound of tearing cloth filled their cramped cupboard, a shower of little silver clasps pinging onto the floor before she could finish. The troublesome robes pooled around her ankles, and she was entirely too pleased to be standing there in naught but a lacy brassiere and silk half slip.
One hand went to pull Thomas closer to her, while the other groped backwards to find the wall or a shelf, anything to find purchase against. Stumbling backwards as they kissed, she could feel something hard press against her back, until—
"Ow!" Cara hissed against his mouth, lower half lurching forward, backside stinging too vividly to enjoy her sudden contact with Thomas's lower half. As she craned her head over her shoulder, a carving fork glinted rather menacingly in the dim light, and huffing irritatedly, she batted it aside. In doing so, the shelf above was jostled, a precariously stacked serving platter sliding off and straight toward them.
“Oof--!” Thomas let out. His arm went around Cara’s shoulders to duck her against him in a quick and perhaps futile attempt to keep her from getting clunked on the head by the platter and its various accessories. In turn, it was he who got a nice shot to the temple and he stumbled back, essentially dragging her along with him the short distance across the closet.
Out of everything, at least his hand had kept its tight grip on her rear, having been ready to tease her that he would make it feel better right quick---
“We need a better strategy,” he said with a determined twist of his lips, looking for something stable enough to prop Cara atop. The shelves seemed too flimsy, perhaps if they secured the door...
Thomas let out a slight hiss as his head throbbed with a sharp pain. What a strange dueling of feelings; his skull ached but with Cara pressed so close everything else was aching too.
She tried to suppress an inappropriate giggle by pressing her fingers to her lips, her other hand making worried, fluttering movements about Thomas's temple. "You don't say," she replied lowly.
With her now-tattered robes caught around one ankle, in nothing but her underthings, and Thomas still fully dressed but delightfully mussed with his hand down the waistband of her slip, Cara supposed they made for a rather ridiculous sight should someone wander into the dimly lit space where they were pawing at each other.
Another giggle threatened to escape her, which she quickly turned into an only slightly suspicious throat clearing.
If it was possible, she leaned further into him, applying feather light kisses to his jaw before concern overtook her. "Are you alright?" Cara asked, hands running up his arms and stopping to lightly massage his shoulders. "It might not be a bludger, but sterling silver can pack quite a wallop. Can you imagine the uproar if I concussed the Arrows captain at the start of the season all because I was trying to shag him in a supply cupboard?"
Thomas hummed his own little laugh as his eyes shut at the feel of her lips. He would put a few galleons down on the notion that his teammates would be more surprised (and probably pleased) at his current antics than annoyed by a bump to the head.
“I’ll live,” he mumbled, giving in to her light caresses to kiss her fully. Thomas grinned against her as his free hand took in its own squeeze and he was reminded of how fun it was to not worry about what everyone else was saying. When he got into quidditch mode, put on his captain robes, it seemed like every move he made had to be calculated; this…thing he had going on with Cara, it brought a level of unpredictability to his life that he had to believe was unique for the two of them.
Though he didn’t wish to use his hands in any other way, Thomas made to remove what was necessary of his robes. At the very least, they provided easy access, and his hands then surged forward to ensure that Cara was ready...
He hefted her up, waiting for her legs to latch around his waist before his hands snaked up her back. Thomas took a step forward to press her against the door, but realized that his grip on her was strong enough to keep her sturdy on his own. The thought thrilled him, and he planted himself into a staunch, bent at the knee stance.
“This is a workout I could get used to,” he said with a sly grin.
Though her chest rose and fell rapidly as she strove to level the breathless effect Thomas seemingly effortlessly hoisting her into his arms had had on her, Cara managed to let out a sound not unlike the satisfied purr of a cat as she settled herself against him.
The feeling of being supported only by him, no bed, wall, or other surface to speak of suspending her back or legs, was an unprecedented one, and made her tingle with adrenaline, her pulse thrumming throughout her entire body such that she was sure Thomas could hear and feel it as he held her.
She pressed her forehead to his and smiled before tilting her head and taking the edge of his earlobe gently between her teeth in a light nip. "Well, I do find personal fitness very important," she sighed.