Continued from Sunday Shenanigans

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“So,” hummed Gracie as she spread her hands, taking a moment to admire the way her fingers fanned over Virgil’s chest before meeting his eyes. “Good idea, or brilliant idea?”

Once it became clear they wouldn’t be chased out, the pair had stolen away to the loveseat by the window, neatly tucked away into one end. As Virgil leaned against the wall (seated sideways, one ankle tucked beneath a knee) Gracie straddled his lap, ruddy knees bracketing those denim-clad hips with easy familiarity. It wasn’t the most private perch, given its location (not to mention present company), but considering the purpose behind their visit...

Pictures or it didn’t happen was the nature of the game. Well, no one was taking any – not, at least, anyone Gracie could see – but the presence of at least three other participants would suffice, she was sure. Indi’s surely did.

Hands slid upwards, thoughtful and leisurely, until one cupped her housemate’s jaw—the other raking through his hair, fingertips skimming along the shell of an ear. Gryffindors forgotten, it was an appreciative touch, one that admired as it traced; there was an odd delicacy to his features that even now never failed to amuse.

She blamed it on the snow leopard.

“Can’t say the decor really speaks to me, but...” Gracie shifted, impossibly, even closer, features cast in a look of innocent deliberation. The fingers that had been at his ear now rested at the base of his throat, her thumb idly stroking at his pulse. Her other caught at his lip—dragging it ever so slightly into a gentle pout. Inviting. “Firelight does, maybe.”

Virgil tipped his chin back as he reclined against the love seat and closed his eyes, happy to surrender the weight of his head to Gracie's appreciative caresses.

"All ideas are brilliant until execution," he murmured tiredly in response but there was little to suggest judgement. The prefect only smiled in his listless way and let his hands graze his housemate's sides, featherlight touches against the black material beneath her shirt.  "I daresay this might be an exception to the rule."

He was a dismal participant as far as the list went, and so this specific challenge appealed to him on account of having to do nothing beyond indulging in a natural appetite. Gracie's wandering had led her to the base of his neck, where he felt the minute pulsations in her fingertips bearing down on his own. The both of them terribly alive.

A catlike hum as she pulled at his lip.  "Company over decor, don't you think?" Virgil opened his eyes and lifted his head forward ever so slightly, gaze dropping to the mouth he'd tasted on occasions before - the natural curiosities of their youth, the continued indulgences of young adulthood. He offered his tongue, licking her intruding thumb.

Ignoring the Gryffindors in the background was an easy endeavour when one had a clever witch on one's lap.

"You're playing with your food," he accused in a drowsy voice and shifted his hips slightly, distractedly aware of her thighs; pale and fleshy expanse.

Gracie lifted her gaze away from his mouth, meeting that blue-eyed stare with a warm, wicked look of her own. He knew her too well. “So I am,” she agreed – hands moving to cup his face – and finally lowered her head then, hair spilling over her shoulders.

It was just a chaste brush of lips at first, their mouths barely touching, and lighter still for how she drew back at the slightest press forward, smirking. But another pointed shift of hips, those idle fingers on her skin bearing down—she leaned in again. Smirk softening almost almost in apology, she sank into the kiss.

For a moment, that was all it was: warmth, pliancy, a slow, heady descent. Sleepy. Indolent. Dreamily Gracie rubbed her lips against Virgil’s, nuzzling, simply content to feel. And yet...

Something buzzed beneath her skin. Perhaps it was the drift of his hands, or the easy yield of his mouth, or the sheer boldness of it all, that extra thrill of their exhibition. Whatever it was, it made the witch rock in his lap, cup his jaw, smile against his mouth—and bite.

Lips parted.

The hand on Virgil’s jaw slipped to the back of his head, curling in his hair into a fist. Tugging it lightly, she bared his neck, exposing the vulnerable expanse of his throat. But while her grip was firm, easily possessive, she had gentled, the sharpness of their kiss retracting like a cat’s claws. “Sorry,” she murmured breathlessly, practically against his chin, and when she loosened her grip – pulled back just enough to meet his eyes – beneath the fan of her lashes, her own were nearly black.

Virgil tensed - statuesque underneath the sharp bite of his housemate's teeth, his lithe frame sensitive to sudden violences and movements. His gentle lethargy dispersed like a broken spell and he couldn't stop himself from the sharp intake of breath, an effeminate gasp as she pulled his head back and her hot breath graced his pale white throat. It was so silent and soft that from a distance, you might not have noticed the fleeting exchange between body languages.

“Sorry," said the witch who he knew oft dreamt of snow leopards beneath starry skies of a mountainous range.

His pale eyes met her dark ones with contrast, acknowledging the mutual hunger but wary enough of their environment to place his intellectual consciousness between them. He exhaled sweetly and slid his hands away from her soft thighs, where his nails had dug in and left light crescent marks against the flesh.

Under different circumstances he would have asked to kiss the marks. In his mind, the only gentlemanly thing to do.

"I doubt it." Virgil whispered in reply, sardonic, and let his gaze drift lazily past her head to the Gryffindor party beyond - Pepper and company getting into the swing of things. Indi and some others noticed them in their corner, throwing conspiratorial winks. A mission accomplished.

He lifted his head off the back of the seat, cautiously bumping heads with Gracie as they woke from their sultry little stupor. "Escort me home, Slant..." a sleepy and childish demand. "Tuck me into bed, will you not?"