The first set of Quidditch games after a long winter hiatus always had the school in a wonderful sort of buzz. Minerva was thrilled to attend a match that Saturday morning at the very end of March, despite the mountain of work she had waiting for her in her office. However, it was the first time in quite some time that she was ahead just enough to justify spending a morning with Tom, followed by an afternoon at the Quidditch Pitch, and then perhaps the night with her man too. After all, the morning merely consisted of a lengthy breakfast discussing the Prophet, followed by a stroll through the corridors under the guise of monitoring student behaviour. That was hardly what he wanted to be doing with her, and Minerva had been keenly aware of that for about a week now. Well, perhaps a little longer, but she wasn't about to give him the satisfaction of knowing just how much she enjoyed teasing him.

It had been nearly a month since she asked Albus to teach her how to block outside forces from controlling her mind, and she was pleased to say that she acquired the skill quickly. Her mentor was hardly shocked that she could put up an adequate barrier to his defenses, but rather put out that she had yet to tell him why she had such a keen interest in learning. Naturally, she assumed Albus had his suspicions has to why she needed to know such defense tactics, but he was a good man, and an even better friend; therefore, he had yet to actually say anything further about her motives, or demand to know by withholding lessons. With her new abilities flourishing, Minerva felt as though she could be more confident around Tom. After all, if she could defend herself against Albus, Tom really wouldn't be much of a challenge should something ever click and he tried to force himself into her head.

So, Minerva decided it was time to stop being such an appeasing partner, and actually required her lover to work for her affections. He had become so accustomed to having her whenever he pleased, sometimes several times in a week, and she wasn't going to let him dominate her sexually anymore. It might have been a way to placate him previously when she worried for her mind, but now that she was growing stronger in her magic, it was time to stop acting like a sniveling girl. Therefore, when she told him no, she meant it. At first, he tried a few easy tactics to persuade her, and quickly grew irritated when she did not immediately spread her legs for him. He was the most frustrated when he spent the night in her room, and she would do nothing more than kiss and hold him. Let him be frustrated, she had thought. Minerva had decided that once she was no longer fearful of what might happen should she upset him, she needed to retake some of the leverage she had lost by being so compliant.

Only then did Tom bring back a little bit of romance into their relationship. He showed up with flowers one evening, complimented her, rubbed her shoulders after a Quidditch practice, purred sweet suggestions in her ear, but even then Minerva merely expressed her appreciation through her lips, occasionally grazing him whenever she felt like being a tease. It was empowering to know that she drove him to such a great frustration. It was also quite pleasant to have a break from engaging him sexually; she hadn't ever had this much sex in her entire adult life, and it was exhausting. So, she had spent some time recently reasserting her place in the dynamics of their relationship, and at the same time she gave her body a much needed rest.

When he finally brought it to her attention, her unwillingness to bed him, Minerva admitted that she had simply been enjoying the innocent times they spent together as of late. However, she did acknowledge that she felt as though they did need intimacy, but only when he couldn't have it. After a little more than two weeks of denying him, she had a monthly visit from an unwelcome bodily friend, which forced him to wait yet another week. That issue resolved itself a few days ago, but both had been busy with midterm exams, and it was only today that they had the real opportunity to be with one another without tests looming over their heads.

Aside from her issues with Tom and her lessons with Albus, Minerva's life had been relatively stable. She taught on the same schedule she had all year, worked Prefect rounds, and practiced with the Gryffindor Quidditch team whenever she could. True to his word, Albus spoke with Roger, and the boy was smart enough to tell the headmaster he would leave Minerva be, which meant he could play on the team once more. She was extra careful not to let Wood know that she had intervened for him, lest she stir up any more inappropriate behaviour. However, the boy was just so happy to be back on the team that he had not discussed one thing with her thus far that didn't involve Quidditch or team plays. It was actually quite pleasant to be around him when he wasn't attempting to proclaim his love for her, and for now, she could pretend that it didn't exist.

Now that she had her anxiety about Tom under control, Wood was no longer slipping her love notes, and Albus had resumed teaching her something useful, Minerva actually felt happy. Yes, lessons were still quite frustrating when students did not understand something immediately, and all of life's little frustrations didn't simply vanish because she had a few aspects under control. Everything that might irritate a person was still present, but they seemed to have less of an impact for her now than they might have a month ago. She smiled a little more now, accepted students to see her even beyond the time of her designated office hours, and actually let herself joke around with her Chasers during practice. For the first time in years, it seemed that she could let herself be happy for long periods of time, and the niggling fears that may have gnawed away at her before were temporarily silenced.

Minerva wasn't a fool. She knew the calm couldn't last forever, so she ought to celebrate it when it was present in her life. That was why she opted to finally take a day off from her actual work in order to enjoy the rest of what Hogwarts had to offer her during the year. Quidditch was always an event to be celebrated, and the day was only made sweeter by the fact that Tom had been in an incredibly good mood all morning. Their conversations had been light, fun, and entertaining, and although it was still obvious that he wanted to take her to bed, he was much more flirtatious about it rather than moody. When she left to get dressed properly for the cool spring weather, he had kissed her on the cheek privately and told her he would meet her there, a bit of a bounce in his step as he strolled off. It was always pleasant to see him in a good mood, because it made things so much easier for her in the long run.

So, Minerva had grabbed a coat that was long but thin in order to cover her deep scarlet dress, and then wrapped a bright red scarf around and over the navy garment. She might not have been able to wear her old Gryffindor scarf to the match, but that certainly did not mean she couldn't show off the colours. At this point, it was probably fairly clear to just about anyone who had heard of her that she was a Gryffindor supporter, even if she had never said so explicitly.

Today was the third match of the spring term, and it was technically Wood's first game since he had been deposed earlier in the year. So, Minerva was a little anxious to see the team come out on top; they had been training very hard this year, putting in more hours than humanely possible, and yet they were still only third in the league, just one step ahead of Ravenclaw. Today would be the first of several deciding matches to see where her old house would rank in the grand overall scheme of the Quidditch season, and they needed a generous victory if they wanted their third place rank to be secure. She had tried hard to get the Chasers into a new formation earlier in the week, one that might be more successful against the Ravenclaw players who were much larger in size (and therefore had more brute strength), but with everything happening academically, her girls seemed to forget more than they remembered lately. However, Wood was finally back on the team and out in a game, so she was fairly confident that team morale would increase enough to secure some sort of victory – even a small one was acceptable.

With Tom meeting her down at the stands, Minerva opted to grab Pomona before she left the castle. Her friend remained miserable in the remnants of her break-up with Slughorn, and although Minerva tried desperately to be as peppy as possible for her – a huge feat, mind you – Pomona Sprout seemed down at a place where there was no hope of rescuing her. Minerva could have understood a reasonable mourning period for the loss of her relationship, but it was getting a little frustrating at this point. They hadn't actually been together all that long, and she always assumed that Horace Slughorn would be someone that was relatively easy to move on from. However, apparently she was wrong, and the woman still looked positively glum as Minerva swung by her office to meet with her.

"I don't really feel like Quidditch today," the woman admitted with a half-hearted shrug, eyes only slightly apologetic as she gazed at Minerva from behind her desk. "Why don't you go without me?"

"Because I would feel guilty leaving you here to wallow," Minerva snapped, snatching her bright green cloak off the hanger on the back of her door and extending her hand. "Do not make me force you to go, Pomona, because you know I will."


"Oh, honestly," Minerva sighed as she nearly threw the cloak at her friend, but opted instead to stuff it firmly into her hands. "You see him everywhere, and he has never been anything but pleasant to you. Perhaps going about your normal routine without fretting you will be forced to speak to him will be enough to get you by for today."

"I suppose," Pomona remarked glumly, "but we can't sit near him."

"Fine," she groaned, throwing her hands up in defeat and then checking her watch. "Now come along, or we'll miss the opening."

It took another few minutes for Pomona to stop fussing here and there in her office, but Minerva eventually managed to get her friend out and into the world again. The sun was painfully bright that morning, forcing her to squint during the entire walk to the pitch, and she hoped someone had the good sense to draw the awning over the professors' private stand. Otherwise, this match was going to be terribly difficult to focus on with sunlight continuously blocking her view.

It seemed that the entire school was keen on attending a Quidditch match today, as the students were out in droves along the pathway to the stadium. She saw students from all houses moving in small clusters, and she realized that it was finally getting down to the wire for the Quidditch season; these next few games would determine the rankings for the year, and past performances had little weight if the teams could not play well now. Her mood lifted considerably as she absorbed the buzz of energy around her, and she assumed that the match would be a high point for the week. After all the exams and assignments that she and her students had endured lately, this was a welcome reprieve.

She was thankful that professors did not need to share bench space with students, as they were quite unruly already, particularly in the Gryffindor sections. She was also thankful someone did have the good sense to draw the awning out, and as she settled comfortably onto the first bench of the stand next to her friend, she let out a pleasant sigh, happy to be out of the sun. Yes, she had missed that glowing orb all winter, but she would have preferred a cool, cloudy day on days where she needed to watch students whip around on broomsticks.

They weren't the first to arrive, but they were among some of the early birds waiting for the start of the match. The rest of the staff – for the most part, anyway – filtered in just before the game started. Pomona stared pointedly in the direction of the Hufflepuff stand, as though watching her old house for any misbehaviour, when Horace arrived with Albus. The older man shot his former beau a slightly uncomfortable look, and a weak smile to Minerva, and finally hurried up to sit at the back of the stand with the headmaster. Honestly. Minerva tried not to roll her eyes; she thought the drama was a little unnecessary, considering the players. However, Albus had shot her a friendly enough grin, patting her shoulder affectionately as he passed her seated on the end of the bench.

As she might have predicted, Tom was among the last to come bouncing up the steps. At that point there was no space for him to squeeze in next to her, but he said nothing about it, and instead forced Vector and Hagrid to shift down on the bench behind her so that he could sit there. She smirked a little, pleased that he made the effort to sit near her, but stiffened a little when she felt him place a hand on her waist as he leaned down. It was fairly obvious Pomona was still staring pointedly at the field, and Minerva wondered if her friend also had an aversion to seeing other couples interact now that her relationship was in ashes. After all, she couldn't remember the last time since the break-up that Pomona had been alone with Minerva and Tom in the staff room, when before it was a regular occurrence.

"Hello," he breathed in her ear, lips tickling against her as he spoke. Minerva pulled her head away just enough so that she could turn without making contact with him, and then smiled a little.

"Better late than never, I suppose," she mused, arching an eyebrow at him.

"The game hasn't even started, Minerva," he scolded, tutting at her like a child. "You really must learn to contain your enthusiasm about this sport… It might become a problem."

"You just don't understand the finesse of Quidditch because you were always beaten when you played," she cooed. He pursed his lips at the jest, and she shrugged as though it were fact. She couldn't quite recall if Slytherin had played any worse when Tom was on the team, but she was fairly sure he couldn't either.

"Is that so?"

"It's only what I've heard," Minerva remarked as she turned back to face the pitch, applauding noisily with the rest of the staff as the Gryffindor team raced out into the arena. She heard Tom give two distinct claps before he spoke again.

"I see you're in a competitive mood today, my dear," he purred in her ear, his hand tightening over her hip just briefly enough before she nudged it away. "Why don't we take advantage of that?"

"Oh?" she laughed, giving a loud cheer when the announcer introduced her Chasers for the match. Once composed, she glanced to the side once more, "What did you have in mind?"

"I think a friendly wager should do," Tom told her, nodding out toward the field as Ravenclaws players zoomed from their waiting dock at the far end. "If your lions win, you can decide what we do tonight… anything you like, anywhere you like."

Minerva felt her skin prickle at the thought, but she remained decidedly aloof, eyes glued to Hooch as the woman flew out to commence the match, "And if Ravenclaw wins?"

"Then I shall be the one to decide how we will… celebrate," he murmured heatedly, pinching her waist sharply through her thin coat. Minerva jumped involuntarily, cheeks bright red at both the implications of what he had said and the way he brazenly startled her. "Anything I want, anywhere I want."

She blinked at the thought; what a dangerous game he was playing. However, if she were to win, Minerva would have total control over what their night could be. She didn't really have any plans in mind at the moment, but there were possibilities that she might like to explore. After all, if Tom was eager to interact on a more intimate level at this point, Minerva also felt the familiar tug of desire as he breathed in her ear. So, although this could go in a direction she didn't like should she lose – mind you, what hadn't they done at this point? But Tom had been in such a wonderful mood that morning, and the wager seemed more playful than anything else. Minerva looked back at him and sought out his eyes, trying to see if she could detect any sort of maliciousness behind his words, but she found none.

"I accept your bet," Minerva told him formally, extending her hand for him to shake. She smirked when he gripped her hand a little too tight, "Though I think you may want to reconsider… Gryffindor has been in top form lately."

"We'll see, Minerva, we'll see," he insisted, giving her hand a quick shake. She was the first to pull back, and out of the corner of her eye she watched him settle as best he could on the bench, focused on the game. At this point, the first Quaffle had been thrown, and the possession belonged to Gryffindor. Pleased, Minerva folded her hands neatly in her lap, skin a little irritated with the cool spring air, and then allowed her attention to be entirely consumed by the game.

Pomona appeared to have relaxed a little now that her private conversation had stopped, and Minerva felt irritated at the thought. She was allowed to speak to her romantic partner whenever she pleased, just as Pomona had been allowed to crawl all over Horace in the early stages of their relationship, whether they were in private or not. If this continued, she might be forced to say something harsher in order to snap her friend back to reality. Minerva certainly did not want to lecture a grown woman about her actions, but if they continued to be immature and petty, she might have to.

Although Gryffindor took an early lead, Minerva watched in dismay as they floundered throughout most of the second portion of the match. The formations she had worked on with the Chasers seemed completely forgotten, and Wood struggled to keep up; he appeared rusty, flustered, and irritated during the duration of the game. She winced when one of the Gryffindor Beaters sustained an injury serious enough to take him off for the rest of the match. They may have managed to pick up a few points near the end of the match, but as soon as the Ravenclaw Seeker caught the snitch, the game ended abysmally. Naturally, the crowds were still on a high from all the action they had seen – Ravenclaws elated and Gryffindor moaning noisily about unfair calls on Hooch's behalf and the dismal play seen by their team captain.

Minerva sighed irritably as she heard her colleagues shifting around her. The team was better than this – they were better than what she had just seen. She had seen better performances during practices, and she knew they were more than capable of beating Ravenclaws dwindling team at this point in the year. She wasn't particularly sure what had happened, but she made a note to herself that she shouldn't say anything at the next practice. The team's defeat would be for Wood to handle, and she was sure he wouldn't let them off easily.

"Well, that was unfortunate," Pomona sighed as she hastily rose, smoothing her hands over her cloak and nodding toward the stairs. "Shall we?"

"Yes, let's go," Minerva remarked. She too rose and made to follow her friend toward the stairs. However, a hand snatched her by her forearm, and she nearly stumbled as she was tugged back.

"Nine o'clock, my office," Tom told her softly, eyes darting down for the briefest of moments before they returned to hers. "Wear nothing under your dress."

Her cheeks tinted at the directness of the order, and she opened her mouth to protest. However, Tom simply held up a finger, an eyebrow cocked, and shook his head.

"Anything I want to celebrate, Minerva," he mused, the delight quite obvious in his eyes despite the thin line set by his lips. "Don't be late."

She ground her teeth together irritably, and then yanked her arm from his grasp before departing. Honestly, he was a smug bastard when he won something. As she quickly descended the staircase to catch up with Pomona, she quickly realized that this might have been a foolish bargain to make. She hadn't even considered it at the time, but what if he wanted to use the Imperius Curse on her? Would she be forced to show him that she had trained recently to defend herself, or would she simply let him take control for the night because that was what they had agreed upon? She swallowed nervously at the thought, but then threw her shoulders back. Honestly, she was a grown woman, and she was more than capable of telling Tom that she did not want to do something if he had unwelcome desires that evening.

If anything, she knew they were going to be intimate, because that was the only goal he had lately whenever they were alone. She could certainly handle that. In fact, she welcomed it with a small smile; it wasn't as though sex was completely for Tom's pleasure and never for hers, so perhaps she ought not to worry.

Where she did need to worry was Pomona's nearly obsessive desire to not be caught anywhere near Slughorn, and Minerva almost had to run to catch up with the portly woman. It was surprising how fast she could move when she had an intention behind her stride.

"Pomona," Minerva snapped when she finally caught up with her, shooting a glare in the woman's direction, "this is ridiculous."

"I thought I might carry on if you were speaking with Tom," she insisted lightly, shrugging as though she couldn't see a problem. "I didn't know we were walking back together-"

"You are running, not walking," Minerva stated. She finally breathed an irritated sigh and directed them both toward the greenhouses, quite intent on setting down the law of how this friendship ought to work. "Now, you listen to me, Pomona. You have been on this Earth for a number of years before you had anything to do with Horace Slughorn, and you will find that life has not changed much since you stopped dating him. I assure you, there is no need for any of this behaviour."

Her resolve faltered a little when she saw tears well up in the shorter woman's eyes, and she immediately regretted taking a harsh line with her. Pomona wiped her nose unceremoniously, and then shook her head.

"No, you're right, of course," Pomona sputtered, "but he really hurt my feelings, Minerva. Don't you understand? I don't want to be near him, and I just… I want it to be summer so I can go somewhere and forget about him."

"But you don't need to go anywhere," she said gently, giving her friend's arms a squeeze. "You may have had a lovely time with him, and he may have said some hurtful things, but you are bigger than all this, Pomona. The woman I know would have laughed this off because she knows she deserves better than someone who treats her poorly. Did I mistake her for someone else?"

A shy smile suddenly appeared on Pomona's lips, and Minerva felt as though she had made up for her harsh blunder before. From there, she gave her friend a hug, but only after checking around to see if there were any students lurking. Although Minerva wasn't necessarily the type of person to give or receive hugs outside of a romantic setting, she knew Pomona was, and the appreciation in the woman's eyes was enough to make the contact justified.

Although she was fairly sure the issue still lingered, Minerva felt like she had covered enough grounds today that Pomona would be less inclined to run away whenever Slughorn was around. However, that could all change tomorrow, or even by tonight, but for now she felt accomplished in her actions. With that sorted, the duo made their way back to the castle, and split off toward their respective offices to spend the remainder of their Saturday afternoons grading midterms. Although it meant she would be less productive, Minerva gathered up all her papers and drifted back to her bedroom so that Gus could get some quality cuddles between each set of essay questions. It wasn't until about eight that her hunger forced her out and down to the kitchens for a bowl of soup, and when she returned, she realized she had gone the rest of the afternoon without worrying about her night with Tom.

That must have been a sign, right?

Pleased, Minerva stopped work at about quarter to nine, and then quickly freshened herself up in the lavatory. She brushed her hair out, but then opted to put it up in a ponytail. Tom seemed to prefer it down, but she wasn't about to make it easy on him when he already had the upper-hand. After, she quickly brushed her teeth, readjusted her garter, and then checked her skin in the mirror for good measure. With about five minutes to spare, Minerva hurried toward the door, only to realize she hadn't quite complied with all of his rules. She hesitated, and then licked her lips, debating if she could actually walk through the corridors of Hogwarts without knickers on. She glanced back at Gus, who simply blinked at her with his wide, judgemental eyes, and then hitched up her skirt to remove her sensible undergarments.

Why not?

Unfortunately, it meant she couldn't wear the garters that Tom had such an eye for, but she replaced them with a pair of knee-high socks that she thought might have a similar effect. Afterward, she slipped into a pair of shoes, low heeled, and then darted out of her room and down the corridor. His office wasn't far, but she had to move quickly if she did not want to be 'late', as he had insisted she not be.

His door was partially closed when she arrived, and Minerva knocked twice before letting herself in. She found him leaning back against his desk, arms folded, expression unreadable as he watched her.

"You're late."

Minerva glanced at the large clock behind his desk, next to his hideous portrait that was mercifully vacant tonight, and then arched an eyebrow, "Two minutes late. I was making readjustments-"

"Late is late," he said sharply, nodding at her. "Shut the door."

She fidgeted with the fabric of her dress for a moment, and then turned back stiffly to shut the door. It was then he was upon her, his body flush with her back, a hand wrapped around her ponytail. Minerva winced when he tugged it back sharply, drawing her head back to rest against his shoulder. Her stomach knotted happily: a familiar sign of excitement. She watched as he made a show of slowly locking all three of the large locks he must have recently installed on his door, her hand drifting back to the one on her hair in an attempt to relieve the pressure.

"They're only to keep people out," he whispered, tugging harder when she tried to loosen his grip, "but never to keep someone in."

Minerva opened her mouth to reply, perhaps question the sentiment, but his lips found hers before she could get a sound out. They were crushing, demanding, punishing; she had to work hard to keep up with him. He finally released her hair and turned her, back now pressed against the wall, and Minerva inhaled sharply when he yanked her tie from her hair, dragging out a clump of hair with it. She trembled weakly as his lips trailed down her neck, a more excited pulse awakening in the pit of her being, and Minerva cried out in surprise when he bit at her collarbone.

Then, just as quickly as he was upon her, Tom stepped back, leaving her sputtering a bit at the immediate lack of contact. She watched his dark eyes travel slowly over the length of her body, and then fidgeted anxiously. They hadn't played this game before, where he would stop so shortly after he started, and Minerva wasn't exactly sure where it was headed. Tom smirked a little, and then soundlessly walked back behind his desk to take a seat in his rather large office chair, which he turned to the side gracefully. From there, he quirked a finger at her, and Minerva moved slowly across the small office, a frown on her lips.

Was he interested in doing this on a chair?

"On your knees," he told her when she finally stood in front of him, and Minerva blanched at the command.

"Excuse me?" she stammered, eyebrows shooting up as her arms crossed defensively. He picked at his nails for a moment, and then glanced at up her, an unreadable glint still plain in his gaze.

"I know you heard what I said."

"Yes, I heard what you said," she snapped, nostrils flaring indignantly. "I merely wondered what might cause you to-"

"Anything I want, Minerva," Tom told her sharply, his head cocked to the side. "Surely you have done it before."

"Yes," she hissed, glaring at him a little, "I have done it before."


"Good," he breathed as he made himself a little more comfortable. "Well then, on your knees."

Minerva glanced back at the door, and then swallowed nervously, tucking a bit of hair behind her ear as she debated what she ought to do. She wasn't a prude. No, she certainly wasn't, and probably couldn't ever be considered one again after her relationship with Tom.

So, she tentatively kneeled down in front of him, knees automatically repulsed by the solid stonework beneath them. Her eyes closed as he ran a finger along her cheek, appreciative of the intimacy that he brought to the act.

"Well, must I do everything myself?" she heard him drone, and her eyes flew open petulantly. He nodded down toward his belt buckle, and with hands that she wished wouldn't quiver, she reached forward to undo it.

Minerva had done the action many times before, but she had never bothered to stare too long at, well, it. The thought usually embarrassed her, which was ridiculous; after all, she did enjoy the pleasure it brought under Tom's crafty wielding, but never once had she the desire to be overly familiar with it.

The zipper came next, followed by a shuffling of fabric. Minerva quickly realized that she did not need to actually remove his trousers or undergarments to have access to what lay underneath, but she still hesitated when she actually reached that point.

"Come now," he murmured as he ran a hand through her hair. "How many times have I used this on you? Surely you cannot still be bashful."

She looked up at him, at his smug lips, his quirked eyebrow; couldn't he see she was bashful? Even if he did, he said nothing more about it. He simply stared at her, waiting, arousal quite obvious beneath her hovering hands. Finally, she bit the insides of her cheeks and slid her hands in, tensing a little when she heard him inhale sharply at the contact. Her eyes darted elsewhere when she actually pulled it out, refusing to stare at what was blatantly right in front of her face as she ran her hand along its length, doing whatever she thought he might like by stroking and squeezing at alternate grips.

"Use your mouth, Minerva."


"Anything I want," he repeated for what felt like the hundredth time, and she flinched at the hint of cruelty to his tone. However, when she looked up to meet his gaze, arousal read back to her, and she realized she was doing something for him that he wanted, something he liked. One day, it would be her turn – surely it would.

He hissed noisily when she ran her tongue along its length, her eyes constantly looking elsewhere still. She squealed a little when he gripped a handful of her hair, forcing her down at a pace he seemed to prefer to her cautious exploration. Her hands, meanwhile, clutched at his legs in an effort to both keep her balance and force herself up, her body resisting his pushing when she gagged a little. Eyes watering, Minerva simply tried to focus on her breathing, only half-listening to the way he groaned above her. At least he was enjoying himself; she could feel him growing a little harder each time she slid down his entire length, her throat tightening at the contact.

Minerva was torn between pleasing her significant other, who clearly felt free to take what he needed as the winner of the bet, and standing up for her own self-worth in this situation. Women surely did this for their men all the time, whenever they desired it, and she quickly decided she may simply need a little practice before she felt comfortable with it. No one was comfortable that first time.

She offered to use her tongue the best she could, despite the fact it felt constricted in her mouth, and tried to flicker it along him at different intervals. He inhaled sharply as she did, and suddenly pulled her off, holding her at bay by her hair. Minerva dared peek for a moment, and saw that his jaw clenched and his eyes shut; that could either be a wonderful thing on her behalf, or she had done something terrible wrong.

It must have been right, because the next thing she knew, he had dragged her up and forced her to bend over the desk, her hands flat against the smooth service as her breathing quickened. She used the desk as her support, her knees too weak at this point to hold her up, and her cheeks flamed as he dragged her thick skirt up.

"Oh, Minerva," he sighed gleefully as he pushed the fabric over her hips. "You may have been late, but at least you listen."

She tried to produce some sort of witty retort, but it fell flat when he thrust his entire length into her, filling her immediately and deeply in a way that almost made her want to scream. Her nails raked at the soft wood beneath her, lips parted and eyes scrunched tight as she bore the brunt of his deep, pointed thrusts. There was a small pleasure to it, but nothing more, and Minerva had to bite her lip to keep from telling him to stop. This was what he wanted. He could have anything he wanted…

However, the sensation soon overwhelmed her when he grabbed a fistful of hair once more and ripped her head to the side, her cheek pressed firmly against the desk. She winced as his thin fingers tug into her hip through the fabric of her plain dress, his actions growing progressively rougher as he took her.

"T-Tom," she stammered as he began to slow his movements to sharp, jerky thrusts. However, before she could ask him to stop, or possibly just take a break, he took the hand from her hair and placed it firmly over her mouth, using her for support as he pummeled her over the desk. She whimpered indignantly, and tried her hardest to peel his hand off. Unfortunately, his grip was too much for her to overcome in her compromised position, and she was forced to endure him until he finished.

It wasn't all terrible, naturally, and she found the angle of the position provided a deep-seated throb of pleasure that she did not experience often when they were together. However, the build-up started too late in the act, and his fingers pressed painfully into her cheeks when he finally did finish, his breathing harsh and shallow. Her jaw ached when he released her, and Minerva was quickly on her feet and readjusting her dress to hide her shame once he had let her go. Tom leaned on the desk, one arm propping him up, and she took a brief moment to kiss him gently, as though to reassure him she wasn't completely turned off by his sexual preferences. His lips pressed delicately to hers, and she could feel the heat from his skin emanating onto hers.

She cupped his cheek lightly; another sign of affection to show that he hadn't scared her off. She wasn't sure why she thought of it now; perhaps it was because he had just been completely open and honest about what he desired of her sexually, in a way he never had been before, and there was always an obvious sense of vulnerability that came with such an expression.

"I think-"

"No, no," he whispered, silencing her as he moved away and settled back into his chair. "We don't speak after."

Minerva blinked back her shock, and then watched him nod toward the door. Was he… dismissing her? Her cheeks reddened at the though, and she tried to speak once more, but stopped herself when his eyebrows shot up questioningly. Instead, she merely licked her lips and turned away, wishing he hadn't tossed the hair elastic somewhere on the floor earlier. She felt uncomfortable as she unlocked all three locks, and then slipped out of the office without another word. Anything he wanted. That had been the bargain.

A portrait clucked at her when she walked by, as though it was aware of what had just taken place, and Minerva shied away. It wasn't until she was back in her room, seated on her bed, stroking Gus absently, that she actually felt dirty.


There was a purpose to this. I don't like to casually throw sex scenes into stories like this for no reason at all, so that will be explained later by our favourite villain himself.

I'm sorry for the long gap between updates, but I have good news! I finally plotted out the rest of this story. I've always known what I wanted to do, but I think it seemed daunting because I hadn't ever just written out the basics before. So, basics are done, and I'm anticipating another eight chapters, possibly more if there is a creative spark between now and then.

Here's the general spiel I've been giving in all my "author's notes" sections in my stories - I'm back in uni full-time now for my fourth year, trying to have a social life, working part-time, and working on a novella for a romance publisher that I hope will be picked up! So! That eats into posting time, and I think this general pattern of once a month is where we're going to be for updates. I'd like to do more, obviously, but that's the way it's looking.

Much love to everyone who has stuck this out with me so far. I started this story just over a year ago, and it's been one of my instant favourites. Let's keep going strong, lovelies!