Chapter 24 : Malicious
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For lokita95hp for teaching me some Spanish, holunder for updating myspace
about me updating, MagicallyClumsie for reading everything I have, and
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PREVIOUSLY on HIDE & SEEK
(cue dramatic soap opera music)
I leapt to my feet. “So are we going to have sex or what?”
Mid-drink, Oliver spit his water all over the coffee table and television. Then he started coughing and choking, his eyes the size of china tea saucers.
I became vaguely aware of the situation. Cheers were erupting out of the television because one of the teams won the Cup. I was standing awkwardly, chest rising and falling quickly, and my legs shook under me. Water was in puddles on the coffee table and seeping into a magazine from June. It was dripping down the television screen. Oliver took another drink to stop the choking. His face was lit up like a bleeding firework.
“Uh.” What did I just say?
Jane. WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY?!
I stepped back. Fuck. Shit. I stuck my figurative foot right in my mouth and asked Oliver Wood if we were going to have sex—or what? Real smooth, Casanova. And I was frozen, arms stuck at my sides like they were glued and lungs nearing capacity.
“What are you talking about, love?” Oliver tugged at my arm, but I didn’t budge.
“Uh.” I coughed a bit. My vocal cords had failed me. Way to go, vocal cords.
“Jane, sit down.” He tugged at my arm again.
I could feel my face—hot and damn near sweaty. The lacy thing was still in my suitcase. Along with a couple other things. Fucking shit.
Essentially, I just asked him to have sex with me. I wondered what Ang would think of my sly moves. Did I even want to have sex? Certainly not right at this moment, though the crowd cheering was encouraging. It wasn’t intimate or special or anything. It was us sitting on the sofa watching Quidditch. Well, it was him watching a Cup replay and me spazzing out.
That was exactly what it was. Oliver wasn’t going to put the moves on me (what were these moves I kept thinking about?) while we watched the replay. I looked at his face. He was grinning.
“Jane.” This time he stood up, grabbed both my shoulders, and forced me to sit back down on the sofa. He tilted my head and kissed me gently on the mouth. I could feel his stubble on my cheeks. It made me itchy. “Snap out of it, love. What’s this all about? Have you been reading those racy magazines again?”
Damn him for finding my Witch’s Cosmo in my bedroom drawer when he was over.
“No. Well. Holy crap.” I forced the muscles in my thighs and arms to relax. “I just thought…I mean, I didn’t think before, but then I started to think…”
“Heavily,” I whined. “I don’t know, I was just thinking about you inviting me over and where I was going to sleep and then it just sort of…yeah, spiraled out of control.” I still couldn’t feel my fingertips and I kept my gaze fixed determinedly at the fans rushing the pitch on television. Lucky buggers. “Ang even came over to calm me down.”
“Oh? And I see that didn’t work.” Oliver’s voice suggested he was amused by the whole situation. I bet he was smiling. Sodding jerk.
“Something like that.”
“So where do you want to sleep?”
“I don’t know!”
Oliver laughed loudly and put an arm around my shoulder, bringing me in so my cheek was pressed firmly against his chest. “Well, here’s what I was thinking.” He paused long enough to clear his throat and mute the television. The silence gave me chills. “I was thinking we could sleep in the same bed. I’m a little nervous about it, of course, but the thought of you being here all weekend and not being able to…I don’t know, I just thought it would be nice.”
“Be able to what, Oliver?” Did I now have cards to play in this humiliating conversation?
“I just wanted to wake up next to you. Sod off, Jane.” He tapped my cheek playfully. “I thought it would be nice. But if it makes you uncomfortable, we can nix that plan and I’ll take the couch and you can have my bed.”
The choice was up to me. I sat there, feeling his fingers absentmindedly running across my back. “No, I’d like to wake up next to you. It would be nice.”
“Good. And I promise not to try anything so you won’t be super paranoid.” He chuckled and I smacked him on the stomach. The sexy stomach.
I had a sudden flash of me wearing something increasingly lacy with heels standing in the hallway while Oliver watched Quidditch. He flipped it off without looking back at the television and tripped over himself to get to me.
Calm it down, Jane.
“What are you thinking about?”
“You seem so in control,” I said, looking up at him. “What happened to the Oliver Wood who blushed when thinking about sex earlier this summer? I seem to remember a conversation that went around in several circles.”
“I’m in control because I wasn’t the one thinking it this time.” He laughed. “Okay, I can’t say I wasn’t thinking it because pretty much every time you walk into a room I’m thinking it, but I wasn’t going to say anything—like usual.”
“Pretty much every time I walk into a room? Horn dog.”
“You can’t do that—I’m a man!”
I pushed against him, but he wouldn’t let me sit up. His arm was forcing me to be plastered against his chest muscles. “Yeah right. You’re just a pervy boy with an agenda.”
Oliver shifted and kissed me hard. He opened his eyes minutes later, which were spinning to me, and issued a warm smile. “Maybe you’re right about me. We should just do it right now. Right here. On this couch.”
I blushed. “Shut up.” I kissed him again and I considered that topic closed for the time being.
It wasn’t, however, closed for the rest of the night. Sure, we snuggled up on the sofa and watched more documentaries. Then we made food and had a bit of alcohol. Followed by snogging. I even arranged the various hair products on his bathroom shelf because they annoyed me. Yeah, Oliver used four different hair products. Not all at once, I was certain, but the boy did have good hair. I couldn’t deny that. After that we took a walk down by some jewelry stores where I proceeded to whine about my lack of jewelry (to which Oliver shoved me into the door), but he bought me vanilla ice cream so it was a successful trip in the end.
He kissed me before we crossed the street. Just put his arms around me and snogged me right on the corner. Little kid watched. I saw his ugly nose wrinkle. Bugger off, kid.
He held my hand on the way upstairs and refused to let go in order to unlock the door. He took out his wand (I checked for Muggles) and unlocked it. He squeezed my hand.
The subject of sex came up later.
I was in the bathroom changing into my pajamas and my bag’s contents had fallen onto the green mat. I shuffled through them. Jeans, skirts, and cute dresses came flying out at me. I saw one regular t-shirt. I laughed at the lacy things. They almost taunted me, and a weird part of me wanted to put them on. I checked the side pouches, my heart racing. What the heck?
My pajamas weren’t there and unless I wanted to wear my undies and a short t-shirt, I was out of luck in the pj department.
My head reluctantly poked out of the door, hair finding its way into my eyes. Son of a bitch. “Oliver?”
“Yeah?” I could hear the channels flipping. Was that a belch?
“Um. Can I borrow a t-shirt or something?”
“To sleep in.”
I saw him fall over the side of the couch and into the hallway. “What? To sleep in?”
“I forgot my pajamas, perv.” I laughed, making sure the door was covering my clothesless body. I made a face. “Just give me one of your Puddlemere t-shirts or something. I’ll sleep in that.”
“That is going to kill me.”
“I won’t get it bleeding dirty!”
Oliver shook his head and paced back and forth in the hall. “No, I can just picture it. Gah. Jane, why couldn’t you just bring something overly baggy so I couldn’t see your body? No, that wouldn’t even work.”
“Get the visual of the retreat?”
“With you wearing my damn clothes? Yeah.” He placed his head against the wall, groaning. “Okay, you can wear a sodding t-shirt.”
“It’s either be turned on by that or by the lace. Up to you.”
He marched into the bedroom and slammed the door.
“I know what you’re doing in there!” I let out a laugh and waited for him to return with what turned out to be a soft cotton Puddlemere tee with lettering on the front. I slipped it on, added some boyshorts to the combo, and walked out into the living room with my bag in tow. “Don’t look,” I said.
Oliver covered his eyes. “Don’t worry, I don’t need to look. The visual I’m getting is enough. Thanks.”
“Okay, I could go home and get pajamas you know. Or just wear some of your pajama pants.” I flopped down on the sofa and put the blanket over my legs. I poked him to get him to uncover his eyes. They were a deep, lusting brown. I had no idea brown eyes could look lusty, but his did it. Maybe it was the pupils. Or just the color in general. His were a darker brown than mine, maybe that was it. Did my eyes lust? I wondered.
Oliver stared at me, his eyes falling from my own down my torso until I was covered by his blanket. He let out a cough. Shaking his head, he turned his attention back to the television.
“So what’s the sleeping arrangement for tonight?” I asked this casually, careful not to infer anything or make him look at me again.
“Are you tired?”
I shrugged. “I’m getting there. Eyes are a little droopy.”
“Jane Perry, queen of the weird words.”
“I’m not forgetting your use of the word ‘pang,’ Oliver.”
“Well played.” He laughed and switched to another station. “I was thinking we could crash in my bed tonight. That okay with you?”
“Fine by me.” I fidgeted with a few magazines.
Oliver turned to me again. The lustiness was back. His lips were wet. Bugger. “Let’s be off then.” He grabbed my hand and tugged me up (how he managed to do that and turn off the television was beyond me) and down the hallway. His bedroom was dark except for the small lit lamp in the corner propped up on an unused desk (That’s not entirely true, he had an arrangement of wrinkled clothes on top). He turned around as I was shutting the door and made an odd choking noise.
Oliver lifted his shirt off, barely breaking eye contact with my lower body. “Can’t even handle it. You look amazing. Maybe you should just wear that everywhere.”
“I’m sure the boys would love it.”
“Damn, those legs.” He wrapped his arms around me and we fell backward onto the bed, my hair spewed over the comforter and his lips on mine. I sank into the kiss, tangling my legs in his and let my emotions take over.
No, we didn’t do it. Wow, though, it was hot. At one point he bit at my collar bone and…oh, never mind.
Oliver’s breath was on my neck when I opened my eyes. It was hot in his room and I wanted to kick off the covers, but I was too comfortable. His arm was draped lazily over my stomach and I could feel the hair on his legs against mine. It was bright—light was streaming in through the white shades.
I grumbled. Oliver made a noise that suggested he wanted nothing to do with waking up.
“Morning,” I said.
“I recall you waking me up last time making eggs. Where’s the toast?”
Oliver buried his face in my neck. “Nope. I’ve got you here now.”
I tried to get up, but his grip tightened on my waist. He kissed my collar bone and my body went limp. A chill went to my toes. I descended into the sheets as he shifted to kiss me again, softer.
“You’re beautiful,” Oliver whispered, lips grazing mine.
“You’re a romantic sod.”
“You love it.”
I smiled and kissed him. His hair was messy and tickled my forehead. “Why do we ever fight?”
“Because you’re impossible.”
I laughed and smacked his bare shoulder. Then I kissed his neck, just below the ear.
“Bad idea, Perry.”
“Tell me why.” Why was I suddenly Frisk McFriskerson? Rather confident? I felt exhilarated.
“Do you want me to be plain?”
“I want you to be you.” I kissed his earlobe. I knew what I was doing. The smell of his shampoo was intoxicating.
“I want you.”
I let out a laugh. “That’s normal.”
“More than usual.” He groaned, shutting his eyes. “Something about waking up next to you and your current, rather odd, behavior…”
“What’s the matter? Didn’t wake up next to Libby too often?” I released a pompous smile.
“Aw, hell, Perry. Well, that’s done now. Want eggs?” He hoisted himself up and threw his legs over the side of the bed.
I squealed with laughter, wrapping him in a hug. “Go take a cold shower and I’ll make breakfast.” I reached back to fluff my pillow.
“Good girl, get in the kitchen.” Oliver stood, chuckling, and pulled plaid pajama pants up over his boxers.
His torso was red and flushed and my eyes were glued to the tiny patch of hair stretching below his navel. I recognized his smirk from seeing my expression.
Then I realized what he said.
“Hey!” I shouted, leaping up on the bed. I jumped onto him, wrapping my legs around his back and engulfing him in a kiss. “You’re making breakfast now, tosser.”
“Oh no, I’m not.” He stepped forward and down back onto the bed, kissing me hard and I forgot all about eggs for a while.
“Quidditch Weekly came this morning,” said Oliver. He tossed it over to me on the sofa and leafed through envelopes with a frown.
I smiled, opening and skipping articles on the Tornadoes and how they were spending the summer with the Cup—apparently the Keeper Dillans took it back to America with him. Didn’t care.
Harpies called up a Seeker to practice with. Pfft, I could do that. Didn’t much care though.
New logo for the Arrows.
Tons of ads for fan robes and posters and t-shirts.
“Bastian’s in here,” I said, staring at the photo of Bastian Ricci next to a tall woman with black hair. “She’s snagged another woman. Finally over Alicia I see.”
“She does resemble Bridget.”
“Not amused.” Oliver was scratching away with a quill at the dining room table. “Happy for him though. Damn.”
“What?” I glanced up.
“I’ll have to owl them and tell them I’m not on the eligible bachelor list anymore.”
“I guess the fan mail will end.” I laughed.
“I hope not!”
I threw an old copy of Quidditch Weekly at him, though I missed horribly. “You’re ridiculous.” I was about to finish calling him names, but the owl at the window distracted me.
The letter it held was in a familiar script.
I laughed. “I miss everyone,” I said softly, wondering what Katie’s reaction would be to the letter I sent her about Oliver and I being back together. “I love summer, but I hate that I don’t get to see everyone as often. It’ll be even weirder after we all leave.”
“I’d like to see Fred soon.” Oliver put the end of the quill in his mouth, deep in thought. “I feel a bit bad for roughing him up before. What a loyal bloke.” He tossed the quill, crinkled the parchment, and came over to sit with me. “I miss yelling at those incompetent sods during practice.”
“Just yell at Liam. Clearly he is the same way.” I smiled at the sudden look of jealousy. “Oh, don’t give me that look. You rebounded with Bridget.”
“Why do so many guys fancy you?” Oliver snaked his arms around me.
“I’m just awesome. Obviously.”
He kissed me. “Yeah. Obviously.”
Several hours later we were back on the sofa, empty plates on the coffee table in front of us and blanket draped over our legs. The channels were being flipped and I was drifting off listlessly, eyelids becoming heavier and heavier even though it was still early.
“I hate that we fought over not seeing each other enough,” Oliver said. It was sudden and I jerked awake. “I know I’m here in London, but what if that is a problem again? Quidditch season is starting and I’ll be away for road games and then you’ll be going back to Hogwarts before we know it. What are we supposed to do?”
“Work around it?” I mumbled.
“How though? How am I supposed to see you?” Oliver fell silent, flipping onto the weather station. It was supposed to rain that night.
I snuggled into his chest and closed my eyes.
“I’ve got it!”
“Loudness? Yeah, you’ve got that.” I groaned dramatically and pulled the blanket to my ears.
“No, I’ve got how we’re going to see each other more often. You’re going to come to some of my practices!”
I opened an eye. “What?”
“Yeah! Yeah!” He sounded like a school boy who was presented his first broom. “You can come and watch like people used to do for the Gryffindor practices, except these won’t be before dawn.”
“Only because you’re not the captain,” I said.
“That way you can see me right before and right after—and I can show you how good I am.”
“I’ve seen you play for six years.”
“I’m so good, aren’t I?” Oliver laughed and ruffled my hair. “What do you think? Good idea or shit idea?”
“I like it actually. I’ll be able to see a closed practice and scope out the talent. I’ll report back to Valerie Gig.” I stared up at him and was surprised to see the glint in his eyes. My whole body went numb and I stopped breathing. It was like every inch of my body was being kissed at that second and my throat closed up. His eyes were a painful brown, amber near the center with an agenda.
He kissed me, grabbing my shoulders and propping me up. It hurt, but not bad enough. My legs tingled below me.
For once, I felt perfectly serious.
Oh, no. That had to change. I wasn’t serious. I wasn’t even passionate very often.
He was just so intense, so sincere. I could feel it on his body, on his lips.
But was that me? Obviously not, considering I was thinking about the seriousness of my own attention span while I was snogging my boyfriend. Ah, boyfriend. What a dish he was. Way dishier than Roger or Liam.
Yep. Just totally thought about Roger and Liam while making out. Sick girl, Jane. Sick Sick!
Okay, focus on the kiss.
Great kiss. Really, this boy could knock it out of the park. Made my stomach feel like a weird consistency of pudding and grape jam. That did not sound tasty though.
I was trying to make myself laugh while snogging. I needed to do something—this moment didn’t need to be this serious!
I thought about my bag. About the lacy things I had in it. My legs tingled again. My stomach jolted at the very thought and I felt electric. What else was in there? Some outfits. Dresses.
And then there was the thing I packed just in case. I mean, he did it, so why shouldn’t I? I paid good money.
I yanked myself away from the kiss. Oliver’s eyes widened, perplexed. I saw him open and clothes his mouth, trying to put together any sort of puzzle piece that might link him to why in blazes I broke a perfectly sexy kiss. He’d never know.
I jumped up, backing away slowly.
“Jane, what on earth are you doing?”
I smiled maliciously. I even felt a little malicious. That sounded like a good name for a kitten. Little Malicious, walking around causing trouble and whatnot. I wanted a kitten. Mental note.
“Be right back.” I leapt back as his arms tried to grab for me and rushed into his bedroom where I found my discarded bag with clothes coming out of every hole. Why did I pack that much?
A little bit of snooping around led me to what I was looking for. I smirked devilishly.
“Close your eyes.” I was in the hallway trying hard not to smile.
Oliver groaned. “What’s this about? You’re acting weird.”
“Story of my life,” I said. “Seriously. Close your eyes.”
“They’re bloody closed, woman! What is this about?”
I walked forward, careful to watch my step, and stood directly in front of him. I placed a hand delicately on my hip and bit my lip for effect (milk it for all it was worth). “All right, Wood, what do you think?”
He opened his eyes and at first I thought he was in a bit of a shock. He coughed a little, though I assumed it was a manlier version of a choke. Oliver took his eyes from the tips of my stiletto heels, up onto my bare calves and thighs to the very costume I wore on Halloween: the sexy nurse. And yeah, I may have hiked up the skirt a bit, but I didn’t need to. His tongue might as well have been hanging out of his mouth with drool dripping onto the carpet. He looked at the v-cut top. Stared at it. Then up to my face and the little nurse’s perched on top of my head.
“Jane.” He could barely get the word out and I barely heard it. It was more like a noise in the back of his throat. Oliver’s eyes were drinking me in and if they were hands the entire situation would have been severely inappropriate. Not that I didn’t want it to be.
I did, didn’t I?
That was my entire goal. Captivated by it, really. The whole time since Oliver and I had started dating to begin with I had been engulfed in this sense of lust surrounding him. I adjusted the placement of my leg, balancing on the other and letting my hip fall out. What was it about Oliver would that made me want to tear all of his clothes off?
Even his malicious nature.
Bugger off, kitten.
Then it was like something inside him snapped. I didn’t even see it coming, but within split seconds I was off the floor and into the bedroom and I heard the door slam shut and my back against the bed and we were kissing again, him groaning into my mouth and me lifting the shirt over his head so his chest was pressed against me. It was warm and flushed, which I assumed I was as well.
My nurse hat was crumpled on the bed beside me, my arm jabbing into it painfully, but my lips were locked and heart was thumping up into my throat. It almost hurt and I grabbed the back of Oliver’s hair. His body was rigid on top of mine, fingers finding their way to my collar bone and stomach.
His pants were abandoned on the floor. The room was dark. Stilettos were cutting into the bedspread. I bit his ear. He bit my lower lip. Went for my collar bone. I wrapped a leg around his back.
My fluffing of the pillows didn’t do a damn good.
Outside was loud. Loud as in thundering. Rain pelting the windows and wind howling. The room was dim and my stomach jolted as I heard another rumble of thunder outside. Was it morning? What day was it? Year?
I rolled over and felt the soft sheets against my skin. It was a few seconds before I realized I was curled up naked in the sheets, white cotton outlining my body silhouette, shadows falling on the bed beside me. I was alone too, so I brought the fabric up to my chest and tucked it around me. I rubbed my eyes.
I was naked, lounging in the sheets of Oliver Wood’s bed.
Three guesses on what I did last night.
The first two don’t count.
My face went a painful, burning red. Lightning lit up the room.
“No need to blush.” Oliver pushed the door open with his rear. He had the plaid pajama pants on, but no shirt and was carrying a wooden tray of what smelled like heaven in a bowl. Scrambled eggs. And no, my freak egg spree when we broke up did not turn me away from eggs. In fact, I loved them. Not quite as much as waffles, but I can’t fault Oliver for not making waffles when he had perfectly delicious eggs.
Speaking of perfectly delicious, he slid down beside me and placed the tray on my lap. I clutched at the sheets.
“Not really a need to be shy, but I don’t blame you.” He smiled warmly, his eyes playful and sparkly. He took a bite of my eggs since I wasn’t touching them. Rain was streaking down the window. I could see the shadows through the shades.
I continued to stare at his chest, at his arms and the tiny marks left as a souvenir from the night before. My face burned.
Oh, Jane, what did you do?
And why don’t you feel horrible for it?
I thought about Angelina, coming in late at night with her face bright red and flushed, admitting to me she’d had sex with Fred. Did I feel like that? Giddy? My fingers felt numb and my stomach shook, but not in a sick way. In an exhilarated way.
I reached for the fork. Food would be a good thing. I was wiped out. I tried to ignore Oliver’s smirk.
Instead of talking, he placed his head on my shoulder, hair tickling my neck and arm. He kissed my bare skin. The eggs were fantastic, just a hint of pepper. I looked down, kissing the top of his head with a smile. Closed my eyes. Felt like bliss.
“Jane?” Oliver’s voice was just above a whisper. Tickled my arm.
“I love you.”
My eyes went wide.
“Just thought you should know.” He nestled in closer to my neck, something a child would do out of love. Out of love. Something Oliver would do out of love.
And wow, an L bomb and the S bomb all in one day.
“Love you too,” I said, letting a huge grin escape my lips. I pulled his head up and kissed him, eggs forgotten as thunder shook the flat.
A/N: Did you lot make it out of that snogging alive? I almost feel inappropriate after all that. Wash yourselves! Or not.
So yeah, sorry about the long gap of absence. I usually hate having this much time between updates. I thought about it a lot actually, but there were a few things I got stuck on in this chapter. Plus, if some of you don't know, I'm graduating in a month from college. Whoohoo (you guys have been with me for a long time, huh?). That means apartment hunting, job hunting, school, current job, internship, etc. Wowza. But don't worry, I haven't forgotten and I promise not to. It just might take a little longer between updates. So sorry all! But if you are curious about things, feel free to ask in a review, MTA post, or even on my blog or Twitter. Feel free!
So anyway, to that chapter. Lots of stuff happened. But not really. Jane made the choice. She decided she was ready. Like a toxin took over her pretty little brain. And Oliver dropped the L bomb (finally, boy, after the almost-L-bomb on the train ride and him saying he'd fallen in love with her in front of Lou). So what did you think of this chapter, of what happened?
And most importantly, what do you think is coming for Oliver and Jane?
(fave quotes, scenes, and boys welcome. Yes, Ali, I know you want me to put in a good word for you to Liam. I'm on it!)
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