It had taken hours to gather everyone's statement. Not only that of the Harpies, but also the guards from the pier who had witnessed anything, as well as the MLE employees who had helped thwart Jennings in his plan.

He had cast several powerful confundus charms, confirming Jonathan's hunch that there had been no way Ms. Resiyat's teammates would let her wander off knowingly. Jennings had done his best to accomplish what he'd set out to do years prior. Yet again he had failed, and it would be the last time he'd get the chance, Jonathan would make sure of it.

Parole was not an option, not when he had proved that probation meant nothing and was not a restriction on his ultimate goal.

Sitting back in his chair, he ran a weathered hand over his face, arms straining against the button-down he wore. The sleeves had been rolled up halfway through the paperwork, when it had seemed the evening would never end. It was necessary, he knew this, but the parchment portion of his job had never been his favorite.

There was only one more statement to take, and she had requested to be last. He'd known it would be so, but the night had seemed to drag, knowing what would be at the end. Gwen was seeing the last of her girls home, making sure they were safe.

Jonathan rested his elbows on the desk, hanging his head. Slowly he rolled his neck from side the side, the stiffness in it making him wince as he heard several pops echo in the quiet of his office.

He would wait.

After seeing the last of her team home at the floos in the Atrium, Gwen had penned an owl to Regan to let her know her evening at the Ministry would be rather late. Bishop had taken her home some time earlier, made sure she was safe inside White Chapel, and for that Gwen made a mental note to send her thanks along to the Hit Wizard.

Regan knew that she would be late in coming home considering the events of the day, but it was getting well on into the evening and Gwen had noted that full dark had fallen while she’d been in the Atrium, the windows on the first level showing a true picture outside of the Ministry walls, not the charmed ones on all the other floors. A note confirming her whereabouts would never be remiss, not with Regan, and not for the first time, Gwen was glad that Teddy was about. He was a pup yet, but he was rather large already and fiercely protective of his mistress besides.

As the lift doors slid open at Floor Two, Gwen’s heeled boots clicked on the floor as she moved through the lobby. Ms. Potts had gone home for the evening, but the night receptionist just nodded at her as she moved past the desk and down the hall into the heart of the MLE; she’d been about most of the day, after all. The receptionist knew why she was there.

Despite the flush of activity that had followed Jennings arrest at Brighton Pier, it was rather quiet in the MLE, finally, the lights dimmed for the evening.

She knew where she was going though, and Gwen’s thoughts jumped ahead of her to the Auror whose office she was intent on. She’d asked Jonathan that anything she had to do for the case come last as she had wanted to make sure all of her girls were taken care of and out of the MLE at a reasonable hour, but that left them quite alone for this last bit of bureaucracy.

It wasn’t a thought that upset her, not at all, but as she reached for the handle of his door, Gwen’s thoughts narrowed for the space of a breath on the man inside before she was disrupted by the slight ache of her hand as she grasped door.

She’d yet to apply bruise balm to the burgeoning purple on her knuckles, and only then was she reminded of the distant ache, the sharp pain as she flexed her hand.

Her hands were not meant for the abuse she’d put them to this day, but she couldn’t be upset as what she’d done had been immensely satisfying.

Reaching with her left hand instead, Gwen opened the door, knowing that Jonathan was watching her through the one-way glass, and stepped inside, dark gaze finding his without thought the moment she was in.

The soft click of the door behind her broke the silence and spurred Gwen into movement again as she folded herself gracefully into the chair opposite Jonathan’s. Dark eyes flicked to the rolled sleeves, the tanned skin they showed, briefly up to his loosened tie until she finally met his gaze, hers as intent as his own. “Jonathan.”

He'd watched the flicker of suppressed pain on her features, her dark eyes glancing down at the hand she'd no doubt injured by the blow she'd delivered to Jennings' nose. It had been beautiful, oddly poetic to see the woman who'd been shaken by the attempted theft of her power, take it back in one swift, decisive move.

It'd need to be addressed, but Jonathan knew she'd sidestep it until their business, something that had been pushed off for the benefit of her girls, had concluded.

The events of the day seemed so far away, especially with the lack of movement in the halls outside the glass of his office walls. Everything had passed by, one statement after another, until they'd seemed endless. The absence of other bodies, something that had been a constant crush through the whole of the day, seemed to be realized all at once, and he was suddenly aware that they were very alone.

Eyes snapping back to her face from where they'd wandered to the exposed skin at her collarbone, Jonathan cleared his throat, sitting forward in his chair. "How is Ms. Resiyat?"

"Shaken still, but she's a resilient, strong young woman," Gwen replied easily, feeling no need to hold anything back or sidestep him at present. "She's young - they all are - but they know the hazards of the world they enter when they join the team."

Gwen was glad, more than glad that Fabriana was safe, that all of her team was. She would fight for them, tear people apart for them if she had to, but every single one of them had been chosen carefully, and as much as she cared for them, she wouldn't have put them where they were if she wasn't sure they could handle all aspects of the job.

"I've told you as much before, but I choose the women on my team for more than their athletic ability," she continued, head tipping slightly as she watched him watch her, gaze steady. She was alluding to an old argument of theirs and she knew his thoughts would turn to Hazel just as hers had, but just this moment she chose to leave it be. Another time. "I could never expose Regan to such a world as I have lived, but Fabriana will find a smile by the morrow. She's careful, but fear will not tint her life for this. Such could not be said of all."

It made a difference that Gwen watched out for all of them vigilantly, and she cleaned up much of the riff-raff before any of her girls had to deal with it, but they were all lined with steal else she'd not have put them on the team; professional sports was no place for a delicate bloom.

Jonathan looked at her for a long time, a pair of large, bright, blue eyes springing to thought at her words. The look in Gwen's dark gaze made it clear that she had thought the same thing, and perhaps had even meant the words as a double meaning. He was very familiar with words with double meanings, having spent seventeen years sidestepping and playing the game.

"For some, it's not a matter of choice, but of necessity, whether it be personal or societal," he finally said, speaking of Hazel but also of so many other things. "We can't help what we're tainted by, and even less can we help what actions we take in response." Going into Hazel's life story, why she felt it necessary to be where she was, would not help anything. Besides, it was not his story to tell, not his knowledge to share.

Taking a deep breath deep into his chest, he sat back in his chair, running a hand through his slightly longer-than-normal hair. He let his breath out slowly, the exhale pushing past his lips in a steady release. "I have everyone's statement, just need yours."

The physical cues Jonathan was transmitting, not even trying to cover them up, reflected Gwen's own state of being, though she did not indulge as the man across from her. Her only indulgence was to uncross her legs and settle further into the chair, her own breath passing parted lips steadily as she looked at him.

"Where shall I begin? From whence I arrived, or when I first noticed her missing?"

"When you noticed her missing," he answered, grabbing his wand from where it was resting on his desk. A quick figure eight, and a piece of parchment began filling with their words, taking the conversation down for Jennings' records. "When exactly did you notice Ms. Resiyat was missing?"

It was the first that she'd spoken the whole of it aloud, and as she did so, Gwen felt every emotion over again, saw the whole of it in her mind's eye; the alarm when she'd recognized the scream, the want of her wand in her hand when she'd seen Jennings manhandle Fabriana, the intensely satisfying crush of his nose when her fist had connected with his face - her only recourse when every other thought running through her head was quite illegal.

She remembered feeling Jonathan move by her, his wand pointed at Jennings, and meeting the criminal's gaze. He would come for her again if he could; there'd been nothing but white hot hatred there. "... and then you cut off my view of him, and the trainee led him away," she concluded, watching the parchment fill the last of her words before she moved her gaze to his, intent. "Is it necessary I speak further, or do you have everything needed for the case?"

"We'll want the memory from you," he said, "like we did last time."

Ceasing the use of the parchment with a silent wave of his hand, Jonathan rose from his seat, resisting the urge he had to groan in slight discomfort as the tired and sore muscles in his back protested. He wasn't made for sitting in a chair for hours on end, something he'd realized early in his Auror career, and had done his best to see that he never had to. When it was needed, of course, he would make exceptions, and this was one of those times.

He pulled open a drawer on his desk, extracting a small clear vial from its interior before shutting it with his hip, making his way around the furniture until he was standing in front of her, looking down on where she sat. "If they're able to see the look he was giving you," he started, opening his mouth to say more, but closing it shortly after, jaw clenching as he remembered the promise of pain in Jennings' eyes.

Dark eyes noted the twitch of muscle as his jaw clenched, and it was completely unexpected - though Gwen knew she shouldn't be surprised - but heat flared in a pleasant buzz through her veins. She pushed it away; it wasn't helpful just now, not that it had ever been helpful where Jonathan was concerned.

That he was agitated enough for her that it caused him to physically react didn't help either, but Gwen pushed the thought away too and pulled her gaze from his to collect her wand, press the tip to her head and concentrate on the memory he wanted.

It wasn't but a moment and the silvery thread glowed from the tip of her wand. "Vial," she murmured, releasing it into the little glass tube as he he held it towards her.

Stoppering the vial, Jonathan kept his body facing Gwen but looked over his shoulder. Whistling, the pieces of parchment containing Gwen's statement flew towards him. Setting the vial on top, the papers folded themselves into a plane shape, the memory contained inside, and winged its way towards a small hole directly above his office door. It opened, allowing the parcel to fly through before sealing again.

He watched the memo fly towards the evidence office until it disappeared from sight, swallowed by the darkness that shadowed the end of the hallway, the main lights in the MLE having been turned dim an hour prior.

Dark brown eyes rolled back to Gwen, gaze lingering on the pale skin of her neck before they landed on the hand resting on her knee. He'd seen those knuckles smash Jennings' nose, and they had long begun to show the consequences of her beautiful loss of restraint. Jonathan reached out, hand carefully folding under hers so he could bring it closer to the light being emitted by the single lamp on his desk.

He leaned forward, frowning slightly. "You throw a very good right, Ms. Jones. I'd ask if anyone had ever told you that, but I have a feeling that no one has been able to witness this particular talent of yours before."

The whole of her focus narrowed to Jonathan the moment he took her hand, and her dark eyes followed him intently as he bent over it. He was standing above her, touching her - too close - but not close enough.

The thought was unbidden and heat suffused her skin, though she pushed it away best she could. "Except perhaps, my brother, and Bishop. The former insisted I learn such, and the latter baited me into using it. Never with so much force, it's true, however," she said, voice a little warmer than she'd intended as she watched him study her hand.

"Bishop has a rather good left. I'd say I'm curious whose was harder, but I'm afraid that you'd indulge me and actually give me the chance to decide for myself," he said, one corner of his mouth turning up as his eyes rolled from her hand to her face.

"I generally only result to physical violence when provoked," she replied, lips twitching despite herself as she met his gaze, still too close. It was a distant thought that she shared too much, but it was not a strong enough impression to move her to any action. "And I'd rather not anytime soon, if you can refrain yourself. I'd prefer not injure myself further."

"Neither of us want that, love," he said, delicately letting his hand fall from beneath hers as he straightened, making his way to the other side of his desk. Once again, he began to rummage through the contents of a drawer, pulling out several broken sneakoscopes before he made a noise of accomplishment.

Rounding back to where he'd been, he held up the small jar of bruise balm. "This makes twice that you've required such measures and only once that I have. Were I someone who kept score, you'd be losing."

He knelt in front of her, one knee holding him eye-level with her, as he spun the top off the ointment, the strong scent of spearmint filling the office seconds later. Moving to his left, he made sure her hand was visible in the light from the lamp before dipping his fingers into the cool salve, setting the jar on his desk as he turned back to her, reaching for her hand again.

"You are aware I can do this myself," Gwen murmured, watching him intently though she made no move to pull away as her words might have indicated. Every sense was telling her he was too close, pushing into her space, and whether it was an uncomfortable or titillating buzz, she was unsure. Perhaps both.

"Am I?" he asked, voice low and deep, not looking up from what he was doing. Her knuckles were purple, puffing with the swelling of the muscles and tendons below the skin. Holding her wrist still in one of his hands, he used the fingertips of the other to smooth the ointment over the hills and valleys of her knuckles. His touch was soft, careful.

"I should think so," she replied, tone too warm, too intimate. The soft press of his fingers reminded her of the ache, but it was not uncomfortable, and it seemed his person, his presence filled too much of her space just that moment to give it a terrible amount of thought. "You've noted yourself I'm quite capable," she added, eyes flicking up to his face, watching him as he gently rubbed the ointment into her skin.

"I have," he agreed, nodding, even as he watched the plum hue began to lessen beneath her skin. It would not go away completely, but it would look much better in the morning with the use of the salve. He knew from personal experience.

"And you're correct," he continued, eyes finally finding hers, the whole of her face taking up the majority of his vision, "there are a great many things I'm aware of it when it comes to you."

Jonathan considered himself a strong man, only giving himself over to his desires when he knew they were safe enough to entertain, when they had little to no consequences on his immediate future. What he was giving Gwen, what he was saying and how he was saying it; none of it could be considered safe. There were consequences here, and normally the weight of them would stay his hand, his thoughts.

He had never had the strength to do so when it involved the woman before him, and looking in her darkened eyes, he knew it was a battle he would lose deplorably, had already lost but been too stubborn to admit.

Perhaps it was the adrenaline that had coursed through his body so suddenly only to be dampened by the hours of work, the energy wanting a release after being stamped down and pushed aside. It was possible the nearness he found himself in, the fact that an easy breath in carried her scent, coated his tongue, that pushed him.

Whatever the case, mistake it may be, he had no control over his actions, the tone of his voice, the look in his eyes as he shortened the distance between them.

His words sharpened her focus, a part of Gwen taking apart every bit of what he'd said. He was aware of her, and he'd admitted it. Any other time, perhaps, she would have dissected his words for what he had exposed to her in them, but the deep, rumbled confession of them was accompanied by an ever closer proximity which made holding on to the thread of her thoughts significantly more difficult.

Gwen did not move, not trusting herself. For some time now she'd had the urge to indulge the want of him, but with irritation and distance it had been easier, for a time, to put it from her mind. Even as a breath brought in the scent of him, however - spiced, warm and something else she'd yet to place - Gwen's thoughts ticked to the night, the several nights when time and distance had become too much, had caught up with her despite herself.

This was not the place for such, but her muscles ached with the urge to move, have, and yet she kept herself still as he closed the distance between them. Her lids were heavy, words not more than a warm breath as she asked, "what things, Jonathan?"

He didn't answer, hadn't even really heard the question she'd posed. His focus had been on the movement of her lips, the skin of her neck as her pulse quickened and leaped just below the surface.

Jonathan hesitated, lips mere centimeters away from hers, innumerable thoughts rushing around his head. They stopped on just one - this could be painful - before he succumbed, claiming her mouth with his own.

She'd be so careful with her walls, so careful to present a certain way, shield her thoughts and what she really wanted. Jonathan didn't telegraph himself either, but he had been careful too if the hesitation ... his lips slid over hers, warm, firm, and whatever thoughts she'd been entertaining scattered.

Yes.

She had held herself back, had done as well as she could to stay away from him, trick herself away from him, but just this one touch scattered it all to the wind. If Gwen had thoughts to spare, she might have been worried that it was so easy to sway her from her resolve, but just that moment the only thing she could think of was him, this one moment she'd been trying to avoid, but wanting so very desperately.

There was no thought of moving away, of what might happen next or tomorrow, just that as he began to pull away, a part of her absolutely refused to allow such to happen.

Finally stirring into movement, a low hum escaped her as she raised her left hand and threaded her fingers in his hair as she hooked her hand at the nape of his neck and none too gently pulled him back, teeth nipping at his lower lip as she demanded entrance.

He had been expecting a great many things, above all her certain refusal and subsequent disgust at his actions, that her approval and urge to continue filled him with surprise, enough that he opened his eyes briefly. Her face was too close to see clearly, so he closed them, instead focusing on the warm hand at the back of his neck pulling him closer, and the soft lips his were pressed against, her teeth biting at him.

Deepening the kiss, Jonathan's arm wrapped around her shoulders, practically pulling her from the chair in his desire to have her pressed against his front. Tongue brushing against hers, her taste everything he had imagined it'd be, he pressed a steady hand to the small of her back, pulling her flush against his body, her knees on either side of his hips.

It was exactly what she wanted, but every moment a part of her demanded more. She drank of him, but he did of her too, and the feel of him, his mouth, his body against hers, his hands moving over her back had all thoughts very far away except for what was happening, the desire heating her skin and spilling into him.

Humming her pleasure into his mouth at the press of their bodies, Gwen tipped her head, lips dancing with his, deeper, more, and she lifted her other hand to slide through his hair. The grip she took of the too-long strands sent a sharp pain through her hand, and a soft gasp slipped her lips; of pain or pleasure, or both, she was unsure.

She did not relinquish the hold even as her body tensed slightly, thighs pressing into his sides as she slid ever closer, only the very edge of the chair and his body keeping her where she was.

Swallowing her gasp, moaning low in his chest, the sound deep and rumbling, Jonathan's arm around her back tightened, whatever space had remained between their bodies completely gone. He had thought of this, even when he'd tried to stop himself from doing so, but the reality of it happening was so much better.

The scent of her hair, of her, and the feel of her pressed against him, her legs around his waist... It was almost too much. Almost. Both of his hands traveled down her back before they cupped her arse, moving lower until they ran over the denim covering her thighs, tightening their hold around him.

As if they were one of the same mind, Gwen hooked a leg around him, heel of her stiletto boot digging. The rumble of sound that reverberated from him to her only served to make the fire burning beneath her skin flare and she dragged her nails down his neck until she hit the collar of his shirt.

Frustrated with the barrier, her teeth bit down onto his lip even as her fingers made quick work of the already loose tie and the first few buttons of his shirt until she could slide her hands beneath, palms smoothing over the skin she'd exposed and then up his neck and into his hair again. Skin. Touch. More.

Gwen had known this had been simmering beneath the surface for herself, but she'd not known what Jonathan wanted. As his hands clenched on her thighs though, it was apparent that he'd wanted just as much as she had. There was no hiding it anymore for either of them, and Gwen slid her nails down the column of his neck because she could.

There was no illusion now; nothing he could do would brush this off as anything other than what it was. Part of him knew it was dangerous, knew what could come of this, the consequences. That part of him, the one stubbornly growling that it would lead to hurt, was unable to drown out the other part that simply wanted. He had never denied himself something for so long, despite the repercussions. And this? His desire for this woman shook him for its intensity.

Her hands running over his skin, warm, left a trail of heat as they moved. His own hands were unable to still, moving from her legs to her back, dipping beneath her shirt to slide along her skin. It was soft, just as he'd dreamed, and he bit at her lips as he pushed it farther up her back, exposing more and more of her skin to touch, to experience, to feel.

Moaning, the sounds warm and low as it hummed between their lips, Gwen's fingers splayed as he touched her, his palms sliding over her skin. This was so wrong on so many levels - it had to be - but stopping was far from her mind, a non-option.

Despite all her reservations, her irritation at her reactions to him, the way he pulled emotions from her without even trying, Gwen wanted him. There were always men willing to fill her bed, but she'd never been a woman to partake freely of what was available. She was picky; very choosy. Why Jonathan, she'd never been able to answer as he had done nothing but spark her ire from the start, but a part of her that was louder and stronger than even her own considerable will had decided for her.

As she pulled his shirt from his trousers and finished the buttons she had started, small hands smoothed over his skin beneath the loose and open material, nails dragging lightly over his chest, down his sides, breath uneven as it mixed with his.

Jonathan knew they were rushing, but this was a force he couldn't slow if he wanted to. A portion of his conscious was convinced that this would be the only time this could be allowed though; she had been through a tough day and this was a release of the tension that had been built up for weeks, even months. Rushing would only make the limited time go faster and before he knew it, before he could appreciate it, it'd be over.

As his shirt was pushed from his shoulders by her hands, his own nimble fingers tightening on the hem of her shirt before he began lifting it, he knew it didn't matter. He wouldn't be the one stopping this, were it to happen, and slowing down was not choice he could make.

Their mouths were forced to separate as he lifted the silk garment over her head, and where it went Gwen didn't know, but it wasn't a huge concern. Her gaze was heavy lidded, swirling with the heat he had incited in her, and what she saw in his eyes was a reflection of her own desire, the want.

The air was cool compared to the warmth of her skin and a fine wash of gooseflesh spread across her chest, disappearing into the black lace that was her only covering now. Breathing uneven still, she held his gaze even as she brushed his shirt completely off his shoulders, tugged the rolled cuffs off his arms. She wanted his skin bare to her, all of it, and though everything in her pressed her to move quickly, now, the intensity of his gaze, the look in his eyes made her want to savor it, if only for this moment.

Holding his eyes, she shifted forward, only lowering her gaze when her chosen task made it impossible to hold it anymore. Hands smoothing over his shoulders, his chest, Gwen bent to press her lips, feather light just at the curve of his shoulder, breath fanning warm against his skin before she shifted to press another at the juncture of his shoulder and neck, a sharp nip of teeth following it.

Eyes falling closed, his breath leaving him in a rush at the feel of her lips against his skin, Jonathan's hands lifted, one cradling the back of her head, the other digging fingertips into her shoulder. He hissed when her teeth bit at him, the sound echoing against the glass walls of the office. It would have been a sound of pain, but this wasn't; it was far from it.

With practiced hands, he pulled the tie blocking his access to her hair, tossing it to unknown parts. Now that her tresses were free, he ran his fingers through them, tightening his hold when her teeth nipped at him again. Unable to stop it, a low growl rumbled in his chest as he pulled her face back up towards his, claiming her mouth again.

He could feel the heat of her skin pressed against him, and his hands roamed what flesh he could touch, never staying in one place for longer than a few seconds. There was too much of her he wanted. Jonathan's fingers hooked under the lace strap of her bra, pushing it aside as he kissed down her jawline, continuing the path until he licked along her exposed collarbone.

Her breath left her in rush, a low moan slipping her lips as she tipped her head allowing further access. It was a common enough pleasure point, but Jonathan's attention to her collarbone, her neck, had her nails digging into his back, halted on their journey over his skin. So good.

Her hooded gaze caught movement outside the glass, and it wasn't until that moment that she remembered where, exactly, they were. The glass was one way, it was true, but the door was unlocked and there were no silencing spells. As Jonathan's mouth moved over her skin, Gwen couldn't find it in herself to care. At all.

She wanted more, even - against the damn glass, her mind supplied before a low sound slipped her lips, thought suspended for a moment as her skin brushed his, heat to heat. They were too close, and in an odd position, for her to remove anymore clothing, and her hands restlessly filtered through his hair, nails scraping over his scalp, down his back, digging into the base of his spine as she squeezed her legs around him.

It was a swift motion that put her back on the wood of the floor, his body pinning her, her hair fanning around her head with the change of position. Jonathan took advantage of the shift, of her laid out beneath him, his lips contacting every bit of skin he could manage. His tongue ran along the bra strap that was valiantly still on her shoulder, before pushing it aside, letting it hang useless on her upper arm.

Moving down her body, he kissed the center of her chest, his eyes dark and full as he sat back enough to look at the prize before him. It didn't take long for him to be spurred into more action, however, as he dipped low enough to push his breath along the lace covering her, his hands coming up to palm her seconds later.

Her lips parted as low sound slipped them, back arching off the floor, movement pressing her further into his grasp. Slim fingers tightened in his hair, pulling, as her lids fluttered. Gods, she'd thought of his hands on her, dreamed it even, but it didn't compare to the reality, didn't compare to the fact that he wanted to touch her. Why that mattered, she couldn't answer, thoughts too warm, too present.

Breathing quick, she released his hair, the movement causing another quick flash of pain in her knuckles, but it was absorbed into something so good, and nimble fingers pulled at the buckle of his belt as he hovered above her. Swirling dark eyes flicked up to his, and as their gazes met, she tugged the button of his pants open.

The pace of his beating heart was quick, rushing in his ears as he looked down at her looking up at him. He knew the look in her eyes mirrored his own, knew it gave too much away but was unable to do anything about it. The sound of his zipper being lowered seemed far too loud in the room. It was with that thought that he realized she was overdressed.

Raising to his knees, he wrapped his arms around her shoulders, pulling her to a seated position. His fingers splayed across her back, taking the opportunity to explore her mouth, running his tongue over her lower lip before he began to work at the clasp to the black lace garment.

Before feeling her bra loosen, Gwen nipped at his lips even as she hooked a leg around his waist, pushing against his shoulders as she rolled him beneath her. In a single movement, she was straddling him, the black lace just hanging barely from the swell of her breasts as she looked down at him.

His eyes were intent on her, but she wanted. She wanted him, all of his skin against hers.

But watching him watch her, Gwen found that she very much liked the way he looked at her, and her lips twitched as she dragged a single nail down the center of his body, hooking into the waistband of his pants even as she stood, letting it snap against his skin.

Standing over him, breast still straining at the black lace he'd been intent on, Gwen kept his gaze as she unbuttoned her denims, unzipped until the matching black lace beneath them peeked out. Jonathan had sat up, watching her intently, and she propped her heeled boot on the chair where they'd started, unzipping.

It wasn't a moment before she was several inches shorter, and even as he watched the little black lace hanging precariously from her breasts, Gwen hooked her thumbs in her denims and tugged them just over her hips, heavy lidded gaze daring and inviting him all at a time.

Jonathan's dark eyes watched the slow downward crawl of her denims as he supported himself on his elbows, his arousal for her apparent and unable to be hidden, not that he would if he could. His gaze, heavy with desire, flicked back to look at her face, to watch her eyes as the fabric pooled at her feet and she stepped out of it.

The black lace was in stark contrast to the beautiful paleness of her skin, the heat simmering just beneath the surface almost making her glow, radiate with the warmth inside.

Shifting from his prone position on the floor, he rose to his knees, pushing her denim aside with a sweep of his arm. Level with her abdomen, the skin smooth and alabaster, he placed both of his hands on her hips, lowering his mouth until it pressed just under her belly button, his tongue tracing around the small hollow.

Fingertips digging into the flesh of her hips, he slowly dug his nails in enough that the lace dipped just a little, enough for him to lick the newly exposed skin, nuzzle his face against her lower stomach.

Her lips parted, breathing soft and uneven as Jonathan nuzzled her. Heat and urgency they'd had, she'd had many times, but this? Few men would content themselves for her standing above them and such simple touches, tempered to seduce her instead of just having.

Fingers sliding through his hair, her nails dragged lightly even as she set her other hand on his shoulder, steadying herself. The movement caused the lace he'd loosened to finally slip from it's hug of her hips, and Gwen's head bowed, hair falling in a curtain.

Jonathan's hands followed the lace as it fell towards her feet, the soft skin of her legs under his fingertips. Carefully caressing her ankle, he lifted her leg, her hand on his shoulder keeping her steady. He turned his head against her stomach, lips blazing a trail over her hip bone and down her inner thigh, unable to keep himself from taking a deep breath, memorizing her scent.

His lips ghosted over her inner knee as he bent her leg, pushing it outward, slowly, until the ball of her foot rested on the chair she'd previously been seated in. Open, waiting, he kissed his way back along her thigh, until he was drowning in her scent. His tongue ran the length between her upper, inner thigh and her core, so close to what he wanted.

Gwen's breath came in quick pants with Jonathan's warmth pressed against her, his lips and tongue dancing over her skin. She could feel her skin heat, the room warm and her hand tightened in his hair as he brushed so close to her center, but didn't take, didn't have.

This she'd not expected. She'd dreamed of him, of his hands on her, of having him inside of her, their breath shared - fast and hard and hot, just like she liked it. But this? This was not something that ever came straight away, not something she'd allow in the fervor of her want, but as always with him, something about Jonathan tempered her to let him, to let herself slow, even as she felt the press of the firestorm within her for more, all of him, now.

Succumbing to the desire to taste her, unable to keep himself so close and not partake, he did what he'd thought of doing so many other times. Running his tongue in a long line against her, he almost moaned with the pleasure it felt to give in, to satisfy the want he'd pushed away for so long, ignored for longer.

His left hand found her hip while his right arm wrapped around her thigh, keeping it steady, bowed, open for him. Her nails digging into his shoulder spurred him into more movement as he hummed against her, fingers boring deeper into her skin, pulling her closer against his mouth.

A moan hummed through her, low and warm, matching the glisten to her skin, adding to the heat thick in the room. Her gaze was heavy as she looked down at him nestled against her body, his dark hair in stark contrast with the moon pale of her skin, and her lips parted as a sound slipped them; his mouth and tongue had heat coiling deep in her center.

Raising her gaze, movement outside the glass caught her attention, and even as another sound threatened to spill from her lips, her fingers tightened in his hair, her hips rolling towards him as she bit her lip to stifle the sound. The Auror continued by and she let out a breath, heat thick in the air around her, demanding, so very hazy for her to see through. She wanted him, all of him, and soon.

Oblivious to anything but the taste on his lips and tongue, the warmth pressed against him, Jonathan focused on her body, repeating the things that made her nails dig into his shoulder and her hand tighten in his hair. The noises he was drawing from her drew some of his own, lost against her form.

He teased, changing direction until her breath was coming in gasps, until he felt her knees almost buckle from the level of feeling he was inciting in her. He wanted her to fall apart, wanted to feel her heat contract, knowing that it he had been the one to form that tension and release in her.

Gwen could feel the flutter of her muscles, the prick of stars in the corner of her vision, and just like the snap of a chord, the first flutter of release suffused her and her lips parted on a gasping breath as her nails dug into him. So good, but it wasn't all of what she wanted, and in that moment, she could no longer hold back the urgency in her.

Gripping her hand in his hair, she pulled him back none too gently, tugging up. The dark eyes that looked up at her were swirling, his lips wet with her heat. "Come here," was the low, heated murmur as she tugged at his hair again. All of him, now.

Eyes leaving hers, pressing his lips to the taut skin of her stomach once more, he slowly rose, his hands trailing up her body as he did so. She was strained against the lace of her bra, her breath pressing harder against the fabric. It was beautiful, she was beautiful, and he found her mouth, even as his fingers found the clasp, until his body flush against hers was the only thing keeping the fabric from falling to the floor.

Jonathan was aching to be inside of her, to feel her wrapped around him, and the pull of her hands on him echoed his own urgency. Conscious thought bubbled to the surface, and he turned them, walking her backward towards his desk, his lips never leaving hers as he nipped at her bottom lip, drinking her as deeply as she'd let him.

It was exactly what she wanted, his mouth on hers, drinking him down, lips and teeth tasting, exploring, demanding, and even as she bumped into the edge of the desk, Gwen tugged at his trousers and pants. She wanted to feel him in her hand, in her mouth, but he was too close, and the want to have him inside her was like a living mantra drumming through the air, echoed in the beat of her pulse against her skin.

The last scrap of black lace fell away and she was bare, but it didn't matter. Her hands smoothed over his back, nails dragging as she gripped the curve of his arse, finally exposed to her touch and pulled him near, the length of him hard and pressed against her. A moan spilled from her mouth to his - almost - and she edged up on the desk, his hands bruising at her hips, helping, even as her hands moved up his back, wound into his hair, pulling the dark strands. "Jonathan," was a ragged breath. Now.

His name on her lips, the almost begging quality to which she'd said it, was all he needed to hear for the heat in him to spike, the need to be inside of her too much to put off any longer.

Steady hands gripped her thighs, pushed them apart, his body closing the space that had been between them. He paused long enough for his dark eyes to find hers, to look in her face before he slowly, tortuously, slid into her, the feeling alone driving his eyes closed, a moan deep in his chest escaping as he stilled, fully sheathed inside her warmth.

She'd not been able to imagine this, not even dared think this far. So good. When he'd kissed her though and she'd pulled him near, responded, Gwen had known there was no going back for her. There was truth in actions, and her response to his advance had exposed her desires - desires, once she had tasted them, had planned on indulging fully.

She was a woman who took what she wanted, when she wanted, and until now, she'd not let herself. Why Jonathan, she still didn't know the answer, but why she had denied herself this was just as bewildering.

There was no more denying what she wanted, and what she wanted was to fall over the edge of the precipice he'd brought her to, to have him crashing with her. Hands moving over his body, nails dragging, she wound one in his hair, the other going behind her to the desk to give her the leverage to roll her hips into his, the first movement of their bodies together, and a low sound spilled from her lips, heels digging into the base of his spine.

Jonathan's jaw clenched, a growl escaping as he moved against her, with her. When he had envisioned the end of the night and the taking of Gwen's statement, this had definitely not been in the plans.

He wasn't complaining, not when she was pressed against him and his mouth was on hers, biting at her lips. Later, when he had enough cognitive abilities, he'd worry about what this meant for tomorrow. But that time wasn't now, not when his entire focus was on pulling more noise from her with every thrust, every meeting of their bodies.

Pleasure, every stroke, every point where their bodies touched sparked a flame of pleasure, licking under her skin until she felt as if she would burn. Biting hard on his lower lip as he slid into her again, her hand raked down his neck, down his back, leaving red lines in its wake. "Harder, Jonathan," she breathed, lips trailing over the stubble of his jaw, teeth dragging down the chords of his neck.

She liked all types of love making, but just now, what she wanted was anything but gentle. Hard, fast, bruising to make them both remember.

Hissing at her nails in his skin, knowing there would be marks tomorrow, relishing in the thought, Jonathan pressed his forehead against her shoulder, answering her request with an increase of speed from his hips.

Hand trailing down her side, tightening on her hip for a split second, he continued until he hooked an arm under her knee, lifting it higher, allowing himself to penetrate her that much father, that much deeper. He couldn't help the exhale of air, the moan on the end of it dampened against her skin as he ran his lips over her shoulder, to the junction where her collarbone met her neck.

Her breath came in hot pants, lids heavy as she slid her hands into his hair again, holding tightly. She could feel the edge of her pleasure, every time he rolled his hips now, deeper, faster, the brush of his lips against her skin in a spot that made it hard to concentrate for long moments. Godsdon'tstop, she thought as a moan slipped from her, her body tightening around him as she neared her release.

But she wanted him to come with her, and her mind supplied her with the first shuddering sound he'd made as she'd scraped her teeth against his skin, and even as pleasure pulsed through her body, had her riding the very edge, Gwen gripped his hair tightly and tugged enough to expose the line of his neck.

She had rarely ever done this - most men not only didn't enjoy pain laced pleasure to this degree, but also she rarely felt the desire to leave such a mark on anyone's body. She wanted him to remember this though.

Nails digging into his shoulder, body shuddering around him with the edges of her release, Gwen bit into the juncture of neck and shoulder even as his hips thrust into her, lids fluttering shut as a low moan passed her lips, muffled against his skin.

Her teeth forced his hips to a bruising pace, control having been forfeit the second she'd really marked him. He was moving fast, too fast, and he worried that he'd break the gates without her. His name on her lips though, gasped and breathy as her head fell back, hair spilling over her shoulder until it brushed along his desk, pushed him over the edge, until he was plunging into her, the mantra of her name falling from his lips as he leaned forward, pressing his lips against the exposed skin of her chest.

He continued to thrust into her, the release he'd given so much thought to but never considered actually happening, riding him until he was left panting against her body, eyes closed, face slack with the absolution of tension.

Her breathing slowed, but Gwen's body was lax, draped over his desk, legs wrapped around his waist. Lids fluttering shut, she could feel every point of contact of their bodies still, but just that moment the languidness of her entire being made it impossible to react anymore just then.

One arm draped over her head, skewing his papers. When she registered his breath warm against her skin as he was pillowed on her chest, she slid her fingers into his hair just to feel it run between them, the sensation almost more than she could take as every part of her was sensitized yet.

She couldn't even remember a release that had left her this languorous after, and though she could feel the heat for him, the desire, still curled hot in her center, just that moment she was content to not move anymore than she was. She knew there was repercussions to deal with of some sort, but not right that moment.

He could breathe normally again, the steady and calm breath of someone finally relaxed after so long of tension, but felt no desire, what so ever, to move from his current spot. He was far too comfortable, too unconcerned, too reposed.

After several long moments of silence, their breathing the only sounds echoing off the glass of the room, he finally was stirred to motion, lifting his cheek from where it'd been rested against her skin to press his lips to her, the rush that had seemed to pull at him completely exhausted, replaced by the calming reaction her hand in his hair seemed to bring.

Lids blinking open at the feel of his lips, Gwen's heavy gaze tracked down to him, dark eyes watching as he pressed his lips to her skin again, soft, just a touch to touch. Like she was, she realized, her gaze flicking to her fingers still idly running through his hair, the too-long strands sifting between them pleasantly.

Touch was something that stirred her, and she could feel it, the want for more, but it was distant yet. What was more pressing was the fact that as the haze of their pleasure slowly dissipated, there was the fact that she'd just had sex with Jonathan Savage on his desk in his office. It wasn't what she had anticipated for the evening, but much of the day had been somewhat surreal.

And despite the fact that she'd exposed so very much to him, Gwen found that the thought of not having him again displeased her to a degree that even contemplating such was pushed aside. How to go about this with a man that alternately pissed her off and stirred her ire, a man who pulled emotions from her she didn't feel comfortable having anyone pull from her, was decidedly puzzling however.

The heat from the woman below him was still almost a tactile thing in the room, but without the driving flame of now, Jonathan was beginning to have regular, conscious thought again. He rose from where he'd been pressed against her, her fingers falling from his hair as he lifted enough to look down at her, his hands pressed against the wood of the desk on either side of her.

Words seemed a distant thought, something inconsiderable at the moment, and it was with great reluctance, and a moan at the loss of connection, that their bodies lost full contact, a bit of her warmth leaving him with the movement. Unable to stay completely separate from her, for the the moment at least, he trailed a hand down her stomach and thigh, his warm palm resting on her knee as he stood, gaze steady on hers.

She could dance around the issue with words, but having decided what was unacceptable to her, there was only one other direction, and after what they'd just done, anything but directness would be inane.

Aware but uncaring of her bareness, Gwen did not move from her languid repose, but her eyes were dark and swirling, heat already stirring in her again. She pushed it away though, meeting his gaze evenly. "We cannot go to White Chapel," she said, voice still warm and low, soft from her exertions.

Jonathan's eyes widened minutely, having slight trouble concentrating with her laying as she was, his body already responding to her again. "I wouldn't presume," he said, unsure why the statement had needed to be made.

Finally pushing up from her repose on the desk, she felt the featherlight brush of her hair against her back, but it was his gaze she was focused on despite the fact she could feel heated sparks tinting the air again. "I'm glad we cleared that up," she murmured, reaching out to hook her fingers in the pants and trou still hanging very, very low on his hips and tugging.

Pulled closer, finding himself between her knees again, Jonathan ran over her words again. It took a few long moments for clarity to break through the haze she was still inducing in him. "Yes," he replied, able to keep the surprise out of his voice, but not out of his eyes.

Everything about this was dangerous, in such delicious ways, and her apparent desire to continue this at some unannounced time in the future was somewhat bewildering. Thrilling, pooling desire deep in his core, but still a bit shocking. Jonathan was already annoyed with his uncertainty regarding the dark-eyed woman. In the throes of their passion, he'd been so sure of her reactions to him, that they mirrored his own. Yet with clear thoughts, unclouded by the desire she grew in him, he had to wonder why.

It had been pounded into him over years of training to be suspicious of anyone offering things freely, something he knew was the same for Gwen as well. While he knew she was different, could feel it in his bones, it was hard to reconcile what he'd seen on her face, and what he'd experienced in the past.

He was thinking too much, too hard; it was something they could both do after this suspended time in his office was over.

Especially as she wasn't done with him yet. There had been things she'd wanted to do, but in the heat of their passion hadn't been able to, and even as his eyes clouded with a million thoughts and emotions - things she knew he wouldn't show normally, things she knew she didn't show normally - Gwen wrapped her hand around his length and he hardened fully beneath her touch.

"Yes," she echoed him, eyes still on his as she slipped off the desk, her breasts brushing against his chest. She knew her own gaze swirled, heat pulsing through her again, and she kept his gaze as she lowered herself, nails running lightly down his abdomen. Only when she had to lower her gaze, did Gwen do so, and in a swift movement, she took him into her mouth.

This was the taste she'd desired, and she swirled her tongue before taking him deeper. They were far yet from done this eve.

The noise that escaped from his mouth was strained, full of surprise and something much baser, almost animalistic. As his hands tangled in the softness of her dark hair, he gave a fleeting thought to the idea that a cleaning crew would be coming by at some point, but when she hummed around him, sending vibrations straight into his very being, he couldn't really find it in him to care.



Summary: Jonathan takes Gwen's statement on what happened at the Pier, and they both take something from the other that they'd only thought about. (NC-17)