Up and Down

Desire and Decency

When Anna unsticks her crusty eyelids, it takes her a moment to remember that she is not in her dorm. The air smells clean and chemical-y, and the ceilings are far too tall.

Cool moonlight streaming through the high windows makes her think for a brief, dazed moment that she had fallen asleep in the Room of Requirement. Her dear Room, always flooded with the calm light of distant stars, the still and contemplative place of peace.

Eventually, the memory of what happened comes back. Her rattled brain is still foggy, but at least she isn't dry-heaving every couple of minutes. She could use a glass of water, though...

She slowly emerges from under the blanket, the thin hospital gown loose around her body. She pads barefoot over to a crystal pitcher on the main desk and pours herself a glass.

As she drinks, she hears something behind her. She spins, alert and scared, and gasps as she is wrapped into a warm embrace. The Disillusionment charm fades, and she finds herself in Sebastian's arms.

"You're finally awake," he rests his forehead against hers, "Merlin, when Solomon came back without you we had quite a row."

"What? Why?" she carefully rests the glass back on the table and wraps her arms around him as well, relishing in the heat coming off him in this wide, open, cold space.

"He told us to take Anne and he would take care of you, as he knows more about healing than we do, and he'll be right behind us with you."

She sighs. Those two have a tendency to see the worst in each other. Perhaps because they are too much alike, even though neither will ever admit it.

"I had a hell of a concussion, he was right to send me back to the castle. I'm still woozy."

"Still, felt... wrong."

"What I have can be healed, even on its own. He did the right thing. You two did the right thing by taking Anne home to rest as soon as possible."

His arms tighten around her.

"Enough, Anna. I don't want to talk about Solomon. I didn't come here to talk about him."

"Then..." she nuzzles his neck and feels his erratic pulse under her lips, "why did you come here?"

He doesn't answer with words. Instead, his fingers hook under her chin and tilt her head up, and she is parting her lips to let him inside.

His kiss is desperate, and he presses her hips into the table, just like he did earlier. The heat flares up again inside her loins, and the ache never really went away, she was merely distracted from it by fighting and arguing and more fighting. Through the thin fabric of the gown, she can feel Sebastian's arousal. He grinds into her, hissing at the modicum of pressure.

Her head spins from quickened breaths, and probably from the lingering effects of the concussion. She is sure Madam Bailey will not approve of her exerting herself so soon... and also of what they are doing in general.

All the societal conventions, conditioning and cultural stigmas cry out in the back of her mind, but Sebastian grinds into her once again, his hands on her hips, and they fall silent at last.

In a daze, his arms hook under her thighs and he lifts her off the floor and the table, blindly walking over to her temporary bed. The iron springs sing softly as he lays her down, never breaking the kiss.

His hands begin to wander, up from her hips and up her belly - she squirms slightly at the light touch, it tickles - and up to her small breasts. He palms them gently, squeezing the soft flesh and running his fingers over the pert nipples that harden even more at his touch.