Sister Hannah

Hannah looks at the enormous piles of boxes in the library. They've been stacked like cordwood near the circulation desk for eventual distribution to the shelves.

It's a bequest from a wealthy Satanist's estate. It's not unusual for the faithful to will their book collections to the library, but they're usually not quite this big. Do they even have enough shelf space for them all? She has no idea. They'll just have to make room somehow.

They've been working on this project for a while already. All the books had to be entered into the catalog before they could be shelved. This at least has allowed them to group things together in the boxes that have to go to the same parts of the stacks. She only had to help with part of that earlier, but they had more staff on hand at the time.

Naturally they've been pulling every library staffer available to help with this project ever since the books came in. Unfortunately, "everyone" available today is far fewer people than usual. There are people out sick. There are people on vacation. There are people doing other special projects on a deadline who can't be pulled.

It's so bad that they're actually going to have to get one of the ghouls to come in to be an extra pair of hands. Part of the reasoning is that their strength will help them schlep these huge boxes onto the library carts, but honestly, it seems like they're desperate for any help they can get.

Hannah, of course, is going to be doing a lot of the shelving. She wonders which of the ghouls will be showing up to assist and whether it's anybody she knows. It's so chaotic in here today that nobody's bothered to give her any details, but whoever it is should be showing up any time now.

They'd better be, anyway. This is going to take forever as it is.

Dew yawns as the library attendant rattles on in his ear. She walks him down the ministry hallways to the library, having fetched him from the mess hall. Boxes, books, blah blah blah. Only one thing is important here. This means he gets to bother Hannah all day.

His tail swings side to side excitedly at the thought. It's been a while since he visitied her at work, and now they'll be stuck together all day. Perfect. Well, probably a nightmare for Hannah. It's alright. She'll be begging for him before long. He grins wildly as ideas flash in his mind. Oh, they're going to have a lot of fun.

The attendant steers him towards a massive pile of boxes, where a familiar figure is standing with her back to them. Dew only barely resists the urge to wolf whistle. Always a good view of her ass.

A very familiar face. Wearing an equally familiar giant shit-eating grin.

Is it really possible there's anybody left in her workplace that doesn't already know she's involved with Dew? Seriously? This one must've been living under a rock.

She seriously considers crawling under one now herself.

It's not that she's not happy to see him or to be spending time with him. Far from it. The more the better. However, her job is really not the ideal environment.

Not that they haven't had fun together during past visits of his. They had. It just always ends up being shockingly unproductive as a result.

Well, there's no help for it. If she doesn't get anything done it'll be their own fault for not taking their relationship into account when they figured out who to assign to her.

"Um. Thanks. I think. How'd they drag you into this project, honey? Band ghoul stuff not keeping you busy enough?"

"Tsk. I'm always happy to see you. It's just that I have actual work that actually has to be done, and you are not good for my productivity as a rule." She kisses his cheek.

It's tempting to slip an arm around his waist in turn. He's such a trim little thing that it's always far too tempting to do that. Alas, duty calls.

"Speaking of which. Could you put a couple of those boxes on the cart for me? I have to go shelve all these stupid things so I'd better get started."

With a reluctant sigh, he pulls away from her and picks out a couple of the boxes. The cart will probably fit two. It takes a smaller one to fit on the bottom shelf of the cart, but he's able to fit one of the large ones on top. Oof, it actually is a little heavy, even to him. What could possibly be in these boxes; bricks?!

She checks the sides of the boxes. There are notations scrawled on each one.

"Okay. The big one needs to go in the back, here. Coming with?"

He doesn't look too happy about having to do actual work, she thinks. No shock there. Still, she'd better at least make the attempt before he inevitably finds some way to distract her.

The shelves she wants are in the stacks toward the back of the main floor. They won't need the elevator for this box.

He walks close behind her and uses the elastic on his wrist to put his hair up in a loose bun. Not the most secure, but it’ll last for now.

Ugh. They've got to go on the higher shelves. Time to get a ladder.

As she works, she inevitably remembers earlier shenanigans with Dew, not to mention the especially grueling punishment V hit her with that one time. She's done her fair share of questionable things in this place.

She sets the ladder into place, grabs a couple of books, and starts to climb.

Well. She’s basically handed him an opportunity on a silver platter. Dew carefully leans on the ladder and tries to get a peek up her skirt. It’s a little hard with how long her habit it, but he eventually finds the perfect angle.

He was awfully quiet there for a minute or two, she thinks. Probably trying to look up my dress. The traditional habit is long enough to prevent casual flashing, but a determined enough pervert might manage it. And there are few perverts more determined than her Dewdrop. It's all part of his charm.

“Hm? Oh, sure.”

It’s difficult to take his eyes off of her, but he manages. He grabs a couple books as she asks and holds them up.

She carefully glances down his way, moving her head as little as possible. As it turns out, she needn't have used so much caution. He's far too busy staring to see her catching him at it.

"Enjoying the view?" she asks with a giggle.

His voice drops, eyes burning fire. "Why don't we fix that, then?" he purrs. "Take them off and toss them down. Give me a nice little show."

Why she always agrees to his little requests is a question for another day. It might be that voice he always uses on her. Or his burning eyes. His infernal beauty, her wish to please him. Or all of the above.

It's impossible to reach under her habit, especially in this awkward position, without showing everything in the process. She blushes, hoping nobody chooses this moment to really need this reference section. For a few moments, her skirts are essentially up around her waist.

She slides off her panties as quickly as she can -- not very, considering she's trying to maintain her balance at the same time. Her heart is pounding with the anxiety of risking being caught like this.

When she tosses them down, he catches them in one hand and brings them to his nose. Fuck, he's obsessed with her. He can pretend he's the boss all he wants, but she's got him wrapped around her finger.

This, despite her lingering blush, is only the truth. She'd do just about anything for him. Foolish, probably, but there's no help for it.

"Then I hope you won't mind letting me stare as we work a little more."

She takes the books from him and attempts to return to her task. It's a little harder to focus, maybe, than it was at the outset, but it's a small miracle he's actually letting her continue at all. She'd probably better take advantage of that for however long it lasts. No doubt he'll find some other way to interrupt before long.

She can't believe he's actually letting her work. What's going on in that gremlin brain?

She could take the initiative, she supposed, but she's already in trouble from the last time she did that. Not that he's been in any hurry to give her the threatened punishment. It hadn't been a terribly long time since he made that threat, but he hadn't been going out of his way to make any time for it either.

He's been doing that for a long time now; threatening to punish her and then never following through. She wasn't really sure why, especially since he'd continued to be as harsh with V as ever. It really wasn't like Dew to make empty threats of that kind. She'd been starting to think he simply didn't have any interest in doing that with her anymore, though she really couldn't guess why.

Well. If there were never any consequences, did it matter if she was a huge brat? She could test the theory.

Very, very risky thing to test in Dew's case, but she was starting to think it needed to be done. Even if it resulted in a more serious sort of punishment than not being able to sit for a few days.

As she turned these thoughts over in her mind, she managed to fill the upper level of shelves.

"Well, that's the lot for this section, anyway."

She started climbing down the ladder. "Sorry, honey. Show's over," she added dryly.

"It doesn't have to be over..." Dew purrs.

They are, as noted, still in the middle of the stacks.

"You want to get a study room?"

She wonders if she dares to risk a little experiment. She wonders what the consequences would be. This right here seems like it's too easy to really count as a punishment. She's had to hold back in public before under worse conditions plenty of times.

And if whatever he decides needs to happen has to happen somewhere else...well, she's been waiting anyway. It'll be fun to get him steamed in the meantime. Maybe. Possibly. Maybe not. She's doing it anyway.

Her hands are still free. He pulled her in, but she has options.

She reaches up and takes his hair tie out, then runs her fingers through his hair.

"I've tested my acting skills right out in public before, you know. Papa fingered me in the middle of a big formal event under a tablecloth one time. You going easy on me, honey?"

She gets her hands out of his hair and grabs his horns instead and pulls.

A rough growl is forced out of him when she suddenly tugs on his horns. It's nothing compared to the loud thud when he shoves her against the bookshelves so hard that the books rattle. Both of her wrists are instantly pinned near the sides of her head, his body flush against hers.

Hadn't he just had to reprimand her for forgetting her place?! He'd promised her a punishment and hadn't yet found the time to follow through, but clearly she's taken that as a sign that she can do whatever she likes. Seems like it's about time to rectify that.

"You think I'm going easy on you?" he growls. "Fine. We'll see how good those acting skills really are. We'll sit at your desk, the one you use for your illuminations, while I edge you for as long as I fucking want. If you survive, I'll drag you back to my room and give you the spanking you deserve."

Hannah should understand exactly why that's a worse threat. The illumination spaces are in an open room where others work at similar desks. Minimal privacy. No sound proofing. The room itself shouldn't be crowded exactly, but a busy day means people will likely be stopping by to ask her questions and whatnot. All while his mouth is on her under the desk.

Only part of her mind is processing the sense of the words he's saying. The rest only registers the growl.

Oh, she thinks. I've missed this with you.

It hasn't been the right time in quite a while. It's still not the right time, in fact this is possibly the least right time that could have been imagined, but it had simply been too long.

She supposes she should have taken the trouble to be a bigger brat well before this, but she'd been waiting. Waiting to see if he'd follow through on his earlier threats, waiting to find the right moment to act when he didn't. Well, the moment wasn't arriving. She'd had to make it herself.

She'd happily take whatever appalling consequences she'd brought upon herself. It meant that things were happening. Right now.

She wasn't sure why she'd had to push him so hard to get him to this point. He hadn't had that problem with V. Maybe she'd ask one or both of them later. For now, she had more pressing concerns.

The primary one was how to find an excuse to be in the scriptorium when she was meant to be out here in the stacks dealing with all of these book boxes. She supposed she could make something up -- a project accidentally left unfinished, maybe. Something that couldn't wait.

She'd been gazing into his copper eyes. They were burning into her own, she'd properly annoyed him now. She'd apologize for it later, if she still needed to by then. She might be able to expiate the fault just through her own endurance.

I love you, she thinks. I love you so much. It's a strange moment to think it, maybe, but this mood of his is part of why. A part she missed.

But all she says is

"Good girl. Lead the way."

Hannah has, thank Satan, also been there long enough to have a good-sized desk of her own.

Dew won't have ever been here, she realizes. Figures this would be his introduction to the place.

She leads him to her spot. Big desk, fairly comfortable desk chair. Nearby shelving and drawers full of supplies.

Nobody seems to be here at the moment. The people who didn't call out are probably all out dealing with the boxes, where she's supposed to be.

She takes up a page she'd been working on earlier, but had to set aside in favor of the boxes. It was still in the pencil stage, so if she messed it up, it would be comparatively easy to fix.

Calloused fingertips and pointed claws start to trail up her calves with an agonizing slowness. Soft patterns are traced into sensitive skin, rising higher and higher.

Fingertips trail closer to her core and gently spread her legs. His one blessing is that he doesn't hike her skirt up too high and instead just tucks himself underneath it. Easier access that way. It's all too easy to lean forward and teasingly run a finger over her folds.

Come on, Dew prays. Someone walk in. It's no fun if they're all alone here, and not a punishment that way either. Gimme something good.

True to form, it's not long before her luck runs out. Her misfortune arrives in the form of a novice. One of the scriptorium trainees.

She'll just have to manage as best she can. Thank Satan she's had some practice with the boys already. One of V's favorite tricks is to start something under the tablecloth at Ministry events.

In retrospect, it's no wonder Dew immediately clocked what she was up to at that Halloween party last year. It's one of his favorite tricks, too.

"Of course. What can I help you with?"

If her grip on her pencil is a little tighter than might be strictly necessary, it's something you'd have to be looking for specifically to catch.

"So I'm trying to put some of those books away? But I've never been to that part of the archives. How do I get to where these are?"

One part of her brain is dealing with Dew's attentions. Set it aside to the extent possible, whatever that may be.

The rest is trying to explain to the earnest novice how to find one of the more obscure parts of the vast, maze-like library.

"You want the older reference section -- not the one on this floor, the one three floors down from here."

"But I have a book cart and the elevator doesn't go to that floor."

"Yeah, no, you need the other elevator, the one down the hall from the main one --"

She lets go of her pencil. She was dangerously close to snapping it in half.

She's going to murder Dew when this is all over. Assuming she's still functional by then.

He starts to rock his face towards and away from her, creating a delicious pattern of pressure that he knows has driven her crazy in the past. Memories come to mind of her writhing in his bed while he gives her head, moaning and crying out his name. The memory of those sounds makes up for the ones she can't make now.

"You want to turn right down the hall, then another right. The big room there, just go to the center aisle between the stacks."

A certain amount of breath control is involved by this time. The horrible gremlin's getting serious about it now, she can tell. He's never going to let her forget about this afterwards, is he? She allows her annoyance to help keep her responses in order.

"So how far into the stacks in that room is the center?"

"It's three shelves in. I think. Three --"

It's at this point that the little fucker brushes her clit. She has to turn the yelp into a cough. She makes it a bad one so she'll have a chance to catch her breath.

"Sorry. Been dealing with a lot of dust on those old books today."

Gradually, Dew begins to slow down his movements again. He returns to that slow pace until it nearly stops entirely. All that's left are his lips on her, kissing in a way that could nearly be considered chaste if the kiss was anywhere else.

"I'm okay, I guess. I might go home for a bit soon, but I have to finish this or I'll be too far behind on this project --"

"Oh! Okay. Good luck. Thanks for the directions."

"You're welcome." Smiling through gritted teeth.

The novice finally scurries off, and the door closes once more.

She endures a full-body shudder now that she's no longer holding back. His touch is unbearable; she wants to grab his hair and push herself against him, but even if they hadn't been here, she couldn't have. Not with him. One didn't.

The bites are enjoyable in their own way. She resigns herself to her fate. It was her own fault for pushing him, wasn't it? If he'd wanted to make empty threats, surely that was his right? She'd broken her own rule about never asking for anything and never pushing him, even if she'd done it in a roundabout way, and this was the consequence.

The tension she'd been forced to carry while the novice had been here threatened to spill over in some unfortunate way. She takes deep, slow breaths as best she can. If she must be left hanging, at least she can be a well-behaved toy and deal with it herself.

Dew pulls his head out of her skirt and peeks up at her from below the desk.

Kind of him to stop the torture early. She'd been sure she was in for much worse than one spoiled orgasm. He must be feeling more lenient than she'd thought.

She switches into Infernal without really thinking about it. These days, she often spoke it with him primarily if not exclusively when they were alone. The immersion practice had improved her fluency far faster than the coursework could ever have done alone.

Dew smiles back at her and turns his head to kiss the side of her knee.

She works her hands under his shirt. He's running hot, even more than usual for him, near-feverish under her palms.

Those moans she lets out invade his senses, occupying all his thoughts. More. He needs to hear more of those.

"Yes, Sir."

As soon as he's entirely bare, he climbs behind her on the bed.

"Mm, one of my favorite views of you," he snickers as he shamelessly gropes her ass.

The teasing, on the other hand, is rather less surprising, although she'd thought he'd been too distracted by his own need to be bothering with that. In any case, she's aware that he's also merely telling the truth, so she can't complain too much.

"I promised you a good, thorough spanking, didn't I, toy?" he purrs.

It had been a really long time since he'd done this with her. She hoped he was getting something out of this, and tried to get herself into the right headspace to take it.

He grabs her by the hips and grinds himself against her ass, groaning through a bitten lip. Fuck, that's good. So, so good. So good that he nearly loses himself in the pleasure of her body against his own, obsessed with the feeling of her. He pulls back breathing heavily.

"Fuck, those sounds you make. Lemme hear you moan my title."

The sting builds and a blush rises on her face as well as her ass; a response to the way he's placed her like this, the things she lets him do to her. It's mild enough humiliation compared to what V needs from him, but she feels it all the same. She can feel her skin flush redder with every hit along with a deeper sting when he spanks her over his bite. She'll be carrying that bruise for a good long while, she thinks. The pain of that spot will linger for some time after the rest of the redness fades. It's as if he's signed his name into her flesh.

It's in these moments with him, with her skirts around her waist, bottom-up for an easy target, that everything he's done to her today comes together in her mind. This way he has of layering mortifications, leaving her feeling exposed and used.

She's been crying out with every slap. She tries to comply with this latest demand.

In any case, she'd do just about anything for him if he told her to in that feral growl of his. No doubt he knows it.

Her ass is really starting to sting in earnest by now. Dew never holds back out of some misdirected urge toward mercy, something she values in him very much. His natural tendency to be strict and harsh appeals to her just as much as it does to V, just applied a bit differently. Both of them trust him to know where the line is, and he's earned that trust many times over. It frees her up to give in to his discipline completely, knowing that she can handle whatever he dishes out.

The truth of the matter is that she loves all of it, no matter how much he makes her blush to endure it. In the end, she does feel claimed by him because of it; both kept in line and jealously guarded. It's a form of deep safety in its way, being able to give herself completely into his hands like this. The hot sting on her cheeks is an intimate reminder that lasts for days afterwards, too, of having been wanted and marked by his desire.

All of it together feels like love. It feels like love she's allowed to say yes to.

And so she's good for him, crying out louder.

"Good girl. Perfect toy," he whispers breathlessly and finally lets up on the blows.

He rests against her for a moment, trying to catch his breath. Calloused fingertips skim against her new marks, light as a feather. The red blush matches perfectly to the blossoming bruise from his bite. It's almost an art piece, really.

Something in his heart goes soft, so suddenly that he momentarily worries he's got a medical condition. He feels this love for her so physically in his chest, deep and expansive. Satanas, it's overwhelming.

"You're welcome, hot stuff." He smiles even though she can't see him.

Once the camera is back on the nightstand, he wastes no more time. Sharp claws grab her hips and tug them backwards. In an instant, he's seated inside her wet heat, bottoming out as if there's no resistance at all. He rolls his hips deep inside her as his mouth hangs open with pleasure. Fuck, he's been waiting for this all day.

"Shit," he hisses on a breathy exhale.

It's so easy to start getting lost in the sensations. She's so tight around him without any prep; it's like she's made to perfectly take his cock. He pushes as deep as he can on every thrust, desperate for as much of her as he can get.

"S-so good," she gasps.

And then his hand is on her and her vision whites out.

The feeling of her suddenly tightening around him—

"Yes, yes, yes—!"

"Fuck, you're good," he murmurs. "Perfect toy, made just for me."

She trails off into a breathless giggle. It's nearly too much, but he feels so good that it scarcely matters.

"Mmh. So are you."

How can he hold back when she moans so beautifully? Dew rolls his hips inside her one last time, slow and sensual.

She shouldn't be this responsive to him again this quickly, she knows that. She must be at that point in her cycle. Either that or it's just him. Impossible to be sure. Not when she's as crazy about him as she is.

He is acting a bit like he did during his rut overall, isn't he? Unusual for him, but at least they'll know what to do if he gets hit with that again.

She thinks she'll put off calling V next time, assuming there is a next time. Fuck being old, she's relatively sturdy for her age. She's curious how much of that she can deal with herself before she has to tap out. Probably more than she did last time if she knew it was going to happen first.

She idly wonders if it's possible to synch up a human cycle with a ghoulish one. That would certainly be more convenient, though she doubts it's biologically possible.

"Well then... you won't mind giving me one more, right, toy?" he purrs, voice sweet and sticky like honey.

Right on the edge of being overstimulated, she still can't help but respond to him. His touch makes her shiver, the push of his hips against her ass is sweet even through the sting. It's only teasing when he tells her so, but she really feels as though she was made for him.

He quickens his pace on her clit.

When he pulls out, she collapses onto her stomach next to him, feeling somewhat boneless and very aware that what now feels like a luscious warmth in her ass is going to be very sore to sit on when the endorphins ebb a little. She doesn't mind in the least. It's exactly what she'd wanted.

"Love you too."

"Teddy ghoul," she murmurs. As far as she knows, it has no precise Infernal translation.

It had been another of those impatient nights for them where he hadn't even had her undress, so she remains as she is, leaving her skirts around her waist. The idea of putting fabric on top of her tender skin doesn't seem appealing just now. Dew's plenty warm anyway, what does she need layers for?

"I guess I should move at some point, huh?"

In theory she should go back to work. It's a bit late in the day, but she could probably catch up a bit on those boxes. it's difficult to find the motivation, though.

"What time even is it? Is my shift over by now? I've lost track."

With a strong hand on her shoulder, he rolls her onto her back so he can lay directly on top of her. It’s only an instant until he’s kissing her deeply and cradling her face in his hands. Her lips are so soft and addictive… It’s been too long since he’s had her like this.

Although, it does make her wonder just a bit more strongly whether he's near another rut. He usually doesn't do this. Usually about this time he'd be asking her if he should walk her home or something of the kind.

However, she's more than happy to follow this mood of his wherever it's going. She can never get enough of him as it is.

"I don't want you to let me go either, honey."

She returns the kiss, slowly drinking him in. He's a perfect warm weight on top of her and she runs her hands over him, toying with his hair, stroking his back. There's nothing in the way and she takes her time with him as she so rarely seems to, enjoying the feel of soft gray skin over wiry muscle.

Does it matter? Possibly not. She's already doing pretty much what she would have anyway if he'd told her that was happening. At some point either he'll get it out of his system or she'll get tired and call V, right? It's not as if V would complain about coming over here for that.

She's perfectly willing to call out of work on account of boyfriend incapacitated by horniness. She's played hooky for less. Ghoul rut counts as "medical reasons", surely?

His bites feel so good, and she's always proud to wear his marks. She always will be.

Oh. Those specific things he'd said. Well, there's no doubt about it now. Dew rests his forehead on her upper chest and starts to chuckle.

She runs a hand through his hair.

"Yeah, it's kinda just whenever. Side effect of putting pure sin in a mortal form. Rain tends to get his in clusters really close together; maybe I'm spending too much time with him," he chuckles, then clears his throat as he switches languages. Probably best not to risk getting horny over it again. "But yeah. I kinda wish it was on a schedule, but that would be too convenient clearly. Not that I mind spending rut with you, hot stuff."

He gives her another smooch on the cheek.

"I do. It kind of does remind me of your scent, at least up front. It's got that woodsmoke thing. And it'll be nice to have something to remind me of you next time you guys are touring."

Then he's back to looking down at her with a shit-eating grin. Ugh, it's a shame they can't just stay like this forever. What fun they're having! His tail sways back and forth in the air while his mind conjures up images of her sweet sin.

Oh, that grin. She'll never get tired of this ghoul and his nonsense.

"Yeah, I guess you should. I'll be back, though. You tell me when your rut's starting, yeah? I'll take good care of you. Papa too, I'm sure."

This time, at least, they can maybe avoid Dew getting quite so frantic from waiting too long.

Hannah looks at the enormous piles of boxes in the library. They've been stacked like cordwood near the circulation desk for eventual distribution to the shelves.

It's a bequest from a wealthy Satanist's estate. It's not unusual for the faithful to will their book collections to the library, but they're usually not quite this big. Do they even have enough shelf space for them all? She has no idea. They'll just have to make room somehow.

They've been working on this project for a while already. All the books had to be entered into the catalog before they could be shelved. This at least has allowed them to group things together in the boxes that have to go to the same parts of the stacks. She only had to help with part of that earlier, but they had more staff on hand at the time.

Naturally they've been pulling every library staffer available to help with this project ever since the books came in. Unfortunately, "everyone" available today is far fewer people than usual. There are people out sick. There are people on vacation. There are people doing other special projects on a deadline who can't be pulled.

It's so bad that they're actually going to have to get one of the ghouls to come in to be an extra pair of hands. Part of the reasoning is that their strength will help them schlep these huge boxes onto the library carts, but honestly, it seems like they're desperate for any help they can get.

Hannah, of course, is going to be doing a lot of the shelving. She wonders which of the ghouls will be showing up to assist and whether it's anybody she knows. It's so chaotic in here today that nobody's bothered to give her any details, but whoever it is should be showing up any time now.

They'd better be, anyway. This is going to take forever as it is.

Dew yawns as the library attendant rattles on in his ear. She walks him down the ministry hallways to the library, having fetched him from the mess hall. Boxes, books, blah blah blah. Only one thing is important here. This means he gets to bother Hannah all day.

His tail swings side to side excitedly at the thought. It's been a while since he visitied her at work, and now they'll be stuck together all day. Perfect. Well, probably a nightmare for Hannah. It's alright. She'll be begging for him before long. He grins wildly as ideas flash in his mind. Oh, they're going to have a lot of fun.

The attendant steers him towards a massive pile of boxes, where a familiar figure is standing with her back to them. Dew only barely resists the urge to wolf whistle. Always a good view of her ass.

A very familiar face. Wearing an equally familiar giant shit-eating grin.

Is it really possible there's anybody left in her workplace that doesn't already know she's involved with Dew? Seriously? This one must've been living under a rock.

She seriously considers crawling under one now herself.

It's not that she's not happy to see him or to be spending time with him. Far from it. The more the better. However, her job is really not the ideal environment.

Not that they haven't had fun together during past visits of his. They had. It just always ends up being shockingly unproductive as a result.

Well, there's no help for it. If she doesn't get anything done it'll be their own fault for not taking their relationship into account when they figured out who to assign to her.

"Um. Thanks. I think. How'd they drag you into this project, honey? Band ghoul stuff not keeping you busy enough?"

"Tsk. I'm always happy to see you. It's just that I have actual work that actually has to be done, and you are not good for my productivity as a rule." She kisses his cheek.

It's tempting to slip an arm around his waist in turn. He's such a trim little thing that it's always far too tempting to do that. Alas, duty calls.

"Speaking of which. Could you put a couple of those boxes on the cart for me? I have to go shelve all these stupid things so I'd better get started."

With a reluctant sigh, he pulls away from her and picks out a couple of the boxes. The cart will probably fit two. It takes a smaller one to fit on the bottom shelf of the cart, but he's able to fit one of the large ones on top. Oof, it actually is a little heavy, even to him. What could possibly be in these boxes; bricks?!

She checks the sides of the boxes. There are notations scrawled on each one.

"Okay. The big one needs to go in the back, here. Coming with?"

He doesn't look too happy about having to do actual work, she thinks. No shock there. Still, she'd better at least make the attempt before he inevitably finds some way to distract her.

The shelves she wants are in the stacks toward the back of the main floor. They won't need the elevator for this box.

He walks close behind her and uses the elastic on his wrist to put his hair up in a loose bun. Not the most secure, but it’ll last for now.

Ugh. They've got to go on the higher shelves. Time to get a ladder.

As she works, she inevitably remembers earlier shenanigans with Dew, not to mention the especially grueling punishment V hit her with that one time. She's done her fair share of questionable things in this place.

She sets the ladder into place, grabs a couple of books, and starts to climb.

Well. She’s basically handed him an opportunity on a silver platter. Dew carefully leans on the ladder and tries to get a peek up her skirt. It’s a little hard with how long her habit it, but he eventually finds the perfect angle.

He was awfully quiet there for a minute or two, she thinks. Probably trying to look up my dress. The traditional habit is long enough to prevent casual flashing, but a determined enough pervert might manage it. And there are few perverts more determined than her Dewdrop. It's all part of his charm.

“Hm? Oh, sure.”

It’s difficult to take his eyes off of her, but he manages. He grabs a couple books as she asks and holds them up.

She carefully glances down his way, moving her head as little as possible. As it turns out, she needn't have used so much caution. He's far too busy staring to see her catching him at it.

"Enjoying the view?" she asks with a giggle.

His voice drops, eyes burning fire. "Why don't we fix that, then?" he purrs. "Take them off and toss them down. Give me a nice little show."

Why she always agrees to his little requests is a question for another day. It might be that voice he always uses on her. Or his burning eyes. His infernal beauty, her wish to please him. Or all of the above.

It's impossible to reach under her habit, especially in this awkward position, without showing everything in the process. She blushes, hoping nobody chooses this moment to really need this reference section. For a few moments, her skirts are essentially up around her waist.

She slides off her panties as quickly as she can -- not very, considering she's trying to maintain her balance at the same time. Her heart is pounding with the anxiety of risking being caught like this.

When she tosses them down, he catches them in one hand and brings them to his nose. Fuck, he's obsessed with her. He can pretend he's the boss all he wants, but she's got him wrapped around her finger.

This, despite her lingering blush, is only the truth. She'd do just about anything for him. Foolish, probably, but there's no help for it.

"Then I hope you won't mind letting me stare as we work a little more."

She takes the books from him and attempts to return to her task. It's a little harder to focus, maybe, than it was at the outset, but it's a small miracle he's actually letting her continue at all. She'd probably better take advantage of that for however long it lasts. No doubt he'll find some other way to interrupt before long.

She can't believe he's actually letting her work. What's going on in that gremlin brain?

She could take the initiative, she supposed, but she's already in trouble from the last time she did that. Not that he's been in any hurry to give her the threatened punishment. It hadn't been a terribly long time since he made that threat, but he hadn't been going out of his way to make any time for it either.

He's been doing that for a long time now; threatening to punish her and then never following through. She wasn't really sure why, especially since he'd continued to be as harsh with V as ever. It really wasn't like Dew to make empty threats of that kind. She'd been starting to think he simply didn't have any interest in doing that with her anymore, though she really couldn't guess why.

Well. If there were never any consequences, did it matter if she was a huge brat? She could test the theory.

Very, very risky thing to test in Dew's case, but she was starting to think it needed to be done. Even if it resulted in a more serious sort of punishment than not being able to sit for a few days.

As she turned these thoughts over in her mind, she managed to fill the upper level of shelves.

"Well, that's the lot for this section, anyway."

She started climbing down the ladder. "Sorry, honey. Show's over," she added dryly.

"It doesn't have to be over..." Dew purrs.

They are, as noted, still in the middle of the stacks.

"You want to get a study room?"

She wonders if she dares to risk a little experiment. She wonders what the consequences would be. This right here seems like it's too easy to really count as a punishment. She's had to hold back in public before under worse conditions plenty of times.

And if whatever he decides needs to happen has to happen somewhere else...well, she's been waiting anyway. It'll be fun to get him steamed in the meantime. Maybe. Possibly. Maybe not. She's doing it anyway.

Her hands are still free. He pulled her in, but she has options.

She reaches up and takes his hair tie out, then runs her fingers through his hair.

"I've tested my acting skills right out in public before, you know. Papa fingered me in the middle of a big formal event under a tablecloth one time. You going easy on me, honey?"

She gets her hands out of his hair and grabs his horns instead and pulls.

A rough growl is forced out of him when she suddenly tugs on his horns. It's nothing compared to the loud thud when he shoves her against the bookshelves so hard that the books rattle. Both of her wrists are instantly pinned near the sides of her head, his body flush against hers.

Hadn't he just had to reprimand her for forgetting her place?! He'd promised her a punishment and hadn't yet found the time to follow through, but clearly she's taken that as a sign that she can do whatever she likes. Seems like it's about time to rectify that.

"You think I'm going easy on you?" he growls. "Fine. We'll see how good those acting skills really are. We'll sit at your desk, the one you use for your illuminations, while I edge you for as long as I fucking want. If you survive, I'll drag you back to my room and give you the spanking you deserve."

Hannah should understand exactly why that's a worse threat. The illumination spaces are in an open room where others work at similar desks. Minimal privacy. No sound proofing. The room itself shouldn't be crowded exactly, but a busy day means people will likely be stopping by to ask her questions and whatnot. All while his mouth is on her under the desk.

Only part of her mind is processing the sense of the words he's saying. The rest only registers the growl.

Oh, she thinks. I've missed this with you.

It hasn't been the right time in quite a while. It's still not the right time, in fact this is possibly the least right time that could have been imagined, but it had simply been too long.

She supposes she should have taken the trouble to be a bigger brat well before this, but she'd been waiting. Waiting to see if he'd follow through on his earlier threats, waiting to find the right moment to act when he didn't. Well, the moment wasn't arriving. She'd had to make it herself.

She'd happily take whatever appalling consequences she'd brought upon herself. It meant that things were happening. Right now.

She wasn't sure why she'd had to push him so hard to get him to this point. He hadn't had that problem with V. Maybe she'd ask one or both of them later. For now, she had more pressing concerns.

The primary one was how to find an excuse to be in the scriptorium when she was meant to be out here in the stacks dealing with all of these book boxes. She supposed she could make something up -- a project accidentally left unfinished, maybe. Something that couldn't wait.

She'd been gazing into his copper eyes. They were burning into her own, she'd properly annoyed him now. She'd apologize for it later, if she still needed to by then. She might be able to expiate the fault just through her own endurance.

I love you, she thinks. I love you so much. It's a strange moment to think it, maybe, but this mood of his is part of why. A part she missed.

But all she says is

"Good girl. Lead the way."

Hannah has, thank Satan, also been there long enough to have a good-sized desk of her own.

Dew won't have ever been here, she realizes. Figures this would be his introduction to the place.

She leads him to her spot. Big desk, fairly comfortable desk chair. Nearby shelving and drawers full of supplies.

Nobody seems to be here at the moment. The people who didn't call out are probably all out dealing with the boxes, where she's supposed to be.

She takes up a page she'd been working on earlier, but had to set aside in favor of the boxes. It was still in the pencil stage, so if she messed it up, it would be comparatively easy to fix.

Calloused fingertips and pointed claws start to trail up her calves with an agonizing slowness. Soft patterns are traced into sensitive skin, rising higher and higher.

Fingertips trail closer to her core and gently spread her legs. His one blessing is that he doesn't hike her skirt up too high and instead just tucks himself underneath it. Easier access that way. It's all too easy to lean forward and teasingly run a finger over her folds.

Come on, Dew prays. Someone walk in. It's no fun if they're all alone here, and not a punishment that way either. Gimme something good.

True to form, it's not long before her luck runs out. Her misfortune arrives in the form of a novice. One of the scriptorium trainees.

She'll just have to manage as best she can. Thank Satan she's had some practice with the boys already. One of V's favorite tricks is to start something under the tablecloth at Ministry events.

In retrospect, it's no wonder Dew immediately clocked what she was up to at that Halloween party last year. It's one of his favorite tricks, too.

"Of course. What can I help you with?"

If her grip on her pencil is a little tighter than might be strictly necessary, it's something you'd have to be looking for specifically to catch.

"So I'm trying to put some of those books away? But I've never been to that part of the archives. How do I get to where these are?"

One part of her brain is dealing with Dew's attentions. Set it aside to the extent possible, whatever that may be.

The rest is trying to explain to the earnest novice how to find one of the more obscure parts of the vast, maze-like library.

"You want the older reference section -- not the one on this floor, the one three floors down from here."

"But I have a book cart and the elevator doesn't go to that floor."

"Yeah, no, you need the other elevator, the one down the hall from the main one --"

She lets go of her pencil. She was dangerously close to snapping it in half.

She's going to murder Dew when this is all over. Assuming she's still functional by then.

He starts to rock his face towards and away from her, creating a delicious pattern of pressure that he knows has driven her crazy in the past. Memories come to mind of her writhing in his bed while he gives her head, moaning and crying out his name. The memory of those sounds makes up for the ones she can't make now.

"You want to turn right down the hall, then another right. The big room there, just go to the center aisle between the stacks."

A certain amount of breath control is involved by this time. The horrible gremlin's getting serious about it now, she can tell. He's never going to let her forget about this afterwards, is he? She allows her annoyance to help keep her responses in order.

"So how far into the stacks in that room is the center?"

"It's three shelves in. I think. Three --"

It's at this point that the little fucker brushes her clit. She has to turn the yelp into a cough. She makes it a bad one so she'll have a chance to catch her breath.

"Sorry. Been dealing with a lot of dust on those old books today."

Gradually, Dew begins to slow down his movements again. He returns to that slow pace until it nearly stops entirely. All that's left are his lips on her, kissing in a way that could nearly be considered chaste if the kiss was anywhere else.

"I'm okay, I guess. I might go home for a bit soon, but I have to finish this or I'll be too far behind on this project --"

"Oh! Okay. Good luck. Thanks for the directions."

"You're welcome." Smiling through gritted teeth.

The novice finally scurries off, and the door closes once more.

She endures a full-body shudder now that she's no longer holding back. His touch is unbearable; she wants to grab his hair and push herself against him, but even if they hadn't been here, she couldn't have. Not with him. One didn't.

The bites are enjoyable in their own way. She resigns herself to her fate. It was her own fault for pushing him, wasn't it? If he'd wanted to make empty threats, surely that was his right? She'd broken her own rule about never asking for anything and never pushing him, even if she'd done it in a roundabout way, and this was the consequence.

The tension she'd been forced to carry while the novice had been here threatened to spill over in some unfortunate way. She takes deep, slow breaths as best she can. If she must be left hanging, at least she can be a well-behaved toy and deal with it herself.

Dew pulls his head out of her skirt and peeks up at her from below the desk.

Kind of him to stop the torture early. She'd been sure she was in for much worse than one spoiled orgasm. He must be feeling more lenient than she'd thought.

She switches into Infernal without really thinking about it. These days, she often spoke it with him primarily if not exclusively when they were alone. The immersion practice had improved her fluency far faster than the coursework could ever have done alone.

Dew smiles back at her and turns his head to kiss the side of her knee.

She works her hands under his shirt. He's running hot, even more than usual for him, near-feverish under her palms.

Those moans she lets out invade his senses, occupying all his thoughts. More. He needs to hear more of those.

"Yes, Sir."

As soon as he's entirely bare, he climbs behind her on the bed.

"Mm, one of my favorite views of you," he snickers as he shamelessly gropes her ass.

The teasing, on the other hand, is rather less surprising, although she'd thought he'd been too distracted by his own need to be bothering with that. In any case, she's aware that he's also merely telling the truth, so she can't complain too much.

"I promised you a good, thorough spanking, didn't I, toy?" he purrs.

It had been a really long time since he'd done this with her. She hoped he was getting something out of this, and tried to get herself into the right headspace to take it.

He grabs her by the hips and grinds himself against her ass, groaning through a bitten lip. Fuck, that's good. So, so good. So good that he nearly loses himself in the pleasure of her body against his own, obsessed with the feeling of her. He pulls back breathing heavily.

"Fuck, those sounds you make. Lemme hear you moan my title."

The sting builds and a blush rises on her face as well as her ass; a response to the way he's placed her like this, the things she lets him do to her. It's mild enough humiliation compared to what V needs from him, but she feels it all the same. She can feel her skin flush redder with every hit along with a deeper sting when he spanks her over his bite. She'll be carrying that bruise for a good long while, she thinks. The pain of that spot will linger for some time after the rest of the redness fades. It's as if he's signed his name into her flesh.

It's in these moments with him, with her skirts around her waist, bottom-up for an easy target, that everything he's done to her today comes together in her mind. This way he has of layering mortifications, leaving her feeling exposed and used.

She's been crying out with every slap. She tries to comply with this latest demand.

In any case, she'd do just about anything for him if he told her to in that feral growl of his. No doubt he knows it.

Her ass is really starting to sting in earnest by now. Dew never holds back out of some misdirected urge toward mercy, something she values in him very much. His natural tendency to be strict and harsh appeals to her just as much as it does to V, just applied a bit differently. Both of them trust him to know where the line is, and he's earned that trust many times over. It frees her up to give in to his discipline completely, knowing that she can handle whatever he dishes out.

The truth of the matter is that she loves all of it, no matter how much he makes her blush to endure it. In the end, she does feel claimed by him because of it; both kept in line and jealously guarded. It's a form of deep safety in its way, being able to give herself completely into his hands like this. The hot sting on her cheeks is an intimate reminder that lasts for days afterwards, too, of having been wanted and marked by his desire.

All of it together feels like love. It feels like love she's allowed to say yes to.

And so she's good for him, crying out louder.

"Good girl. Perfect toy," he whispers breathlessly and finally lets up on the blows.

He rests against her for a moment, trying to catch his breath. Calloused fingertips skim against her new marks, light as a feather. The red blush matches perfectly to the blossoming bruise from his bite. It's almost an art piece, really.

Something in his heart goes soft, so suddenly that he momentarily worries he's got a medical condition. He feels this love for her so physically in his chest, deep and expansive. Satanas, it's overwhelming.

"You're welcome, hot stuff." He smiles even though she can't see him.

Once the camera is back on the nightstand, he wastes no more time. Sharp claws grab her hips and tug them backwards. In an instant, he's seated inside her wet heat, bottoming out as if there's no resistance at all. He rolls his hips deep inside her as his mouth hangs open with pleasure. Fuck, he's been waiting for this all day.

"Shit," he hisses on a breathy exhale.

It's so easy to start getting lost in the sensations. She's so tight around him without any prep; it's like she's made to perfectly take his cock. He pushes as deep as he can on every thrust, desperate for as much of her as he can get.

"S-so good," she gasps.

And then his hand is on her and her vision whites out.

The feeling of her suddenly tightening around him—

"Yes, yes, yes—!"

"Fuck, you're good," he murmurs. "Perfect toy, made just for me."

She trails off into a breathless giggle. It's nearly too much, but he feels so good that it scarcely matters.

"Mmh. So are you."

How can he hold back when she moans so beautifully? Dew rolls his hips inside her one last time, slow and sensual.

She shouldn't be this responsive to him again this quickly, she knows that. She must be at that point in her cycle. Either that or it's just him. Impossible to be sure. Not when she's as crazy about him as she is.

He is acting a bit like he did during his rut overall, isn't he? Unusual for him, but at least they'll know what to do if he gets hit with that again.

She thinks she'll put off calling V next time, assuming there is a next time. Fuck being old, she's relatively sturdy for her age. She's curious how much of that she can deal with herself before she has to tap out. Probably more than she did last time if she knew it was going to happen first.

She idly wonders if it's possible to synch up a human cycle with a ghoulish one. That would certainly be more convenient, though she doubts it's biologically possible.

"Well then... you won't mind giving me one more, right, toy?" he purrs, voice sweet and sticky like honey.

Right on the edge of being overstimulated, she still can't help but respond to him. His touch makes her shiver, the push of his hips against her ass is sweet even through the sting. It's only teasing when he tells her so, but she really feels as though she was made for him.

He quickens his pace on her clit.

When he pulls out, she collapses onto her stomach next to him, feeling somewhat boneless and very aware that what now feels like a luscious warmth in her ass is going to be very sore to sit on when the endorphins ebb a little. She doesn't mind in the least. It's exactly what she'd wanted.

"Love you too."

"Teddy ghoul," she murmurs. As far as she knows, it has no precise Infernal translation.

It had been another of those impatient nights for them where he hadn't even had her undress, so she remains as she is, leaving her skirts around her waist. The idea of putting fabric on top of her tender skin doesn't seem appealing just now. Dew's plenty warm anyway, what does she need layers for?

"I guess I should move at some point, huh?"

In theory she should go back to work. It's a bit late in the day, but she could probably catch up a bit on those boxes. it's difficult to find the motivation, though.

"What time even is it? Is my shift over by now? I've lost track."

With a strong hand on her shoulder, he rolls her onto her back so he can lay directly on top of her. It’s only an instant until he’s kissing her deeply and cradling her face in his hands. Her lips are so soft and addictive… It’s been too long since he’s had her like this.

Although, it does make her wonder just a bit more strongly whether he's near another rut. He usually doesn't do this. Usually about this time he'd be asking her if he should walk her home or something of the kind.

However, she's more than happy to follow this mood of his wherever it's going. She can never get enough of him as it is.

"I don't want you to let me go either, honey."

She returns the kiss, slowly drinking him in. He's a perfect warm weight on top of her and she runs her hands over him, toying with his hair, stroking his back. There's nothing in the way and she takes her time with him as she so rarely seems to, enjoying the feel of soft gray skin over wiry muscle.

Does it matter? Possibly not. She's already doing pretty much what she would have anyway if he'd told her that was happening. At some point either he'll get it out of his system or she'll get tired and call V, right? It's not as if V would complain about coming over here for that.

She's perfectly willing to call out of work on account of boyfriend incapacitated by horniness. She's played hooky for less. Ghoul rut counts as "medical reasons", surely?

His bites feel so good, and she's always proud to wear his marks. She always will be.

Oh. Those specific things he'd said. Well, there's no doubt about it now. Dew rests his forehead on her upper chest and starts to chuckle.

She runs a hand through his hair.

"Yeah, it's kinda just whenever. Side effect of putting pure sin in a mortal form. Rain tends to get his in clusters really close together; maybe I'm spending too much time with him," he chuckles, then clears his throat as he switches languages. Probably best not to risk getting horny over it again. "But yeah. I kinda wish it was on a schedule, but that would be too convenient clearly. Not that I mind spending rut with you, hot stuff."

He gives her another smooch on the cheek.

"I do. It kind of does remind me of your scent, at least up front. It's got that woodsmoke thing. And it'll be nice to have something to remind me of you next time you guys are touring."

Hannah looks at the enormous piles of boxes in the library. They've been stacked like cordwood near the circulation desk for eventual distribution to the shelves.

It's a bequest from a wealthy Satanist's estate. It's not unusual for the faithful to will their book collections to the library, but they're usually not quite this big. Do they even have enough shelf space for them all? She has no idea. They'll just have to make room somehow.

They've been working on this project for a while already. All the books had to be entered into the catalog before they could be shelved. This at least has allowed them to group things together in the boxes that have to go to the same parts of the stacks. She only had to help with part of that earlier, but they had more staff on hand at the time.

Naturally they've been pulling every library staffer available to help with this project ever since the books came in. Unfortunately, "everyone" available today is far fewer people than usual. There are people out sick. There are people on vacation. There are people doing other special projects on a deadline who can't be pulled.

It's so bad that they're actually going to have to get one of the ghouls to come in to be an extra pair of hands. Part of the reasoning is that their strength will help them schlep these huge boxes onto the library carts, but honestly, it seems like they're desperate for any help they can get.

Hannah, of course, is going to be doing a lot of the shelving. She wonders which of the ghouls will be showing up to assist and whether it's anybody she knows. It's so chaotic in here today that nobody's bothered to give her any details, but whoever it is should be showing up any time now.

They'd better be, anyway. This is going to take forever as it is.

Dew yawns as the library attendant rattles on in his ear. She walks him down the ministry hallways to the library, having fetched him from the mess hall. Boxes, books, blah blah blah. Only one thing is important here. This means he gets to bother Hannah all day.

His tail swings side to side excitedly at the thought. It's been a while since he visitied her at work, and now they'll be stuck together all day. Perfect. Well, probably a nightmare for Hannah. It's alright. She'll be begging for him before long. He grins wildly as ideas flash in his mind. Oh, they're going to have a lot of fun.

The attendant steers him towards a massive pile of boxes, where a familiar figure is standing with her back to them. Dew only barely resists the urge to wolf whistle. Always a good view of her ass.

A very familiar face. Wearing an equally familiar giant shit-eating grin.

Is it really possible there's anybody left in her workplace that doesn't already know she's involved with Dew? Seriously? This one must've been living under a rock.

She seriously considers crawling under one now herself.

It's not that she's not happy to see him or to be spending time with him. Far from it. The more the better. However, her job is really not the ideal environment.

Not that they haven't had fun together during past visits of his. They had. It just always ends up being shockingly unproductive as a result.

Well, there's no help for it. If she doesn't get anything done it'll be their own fault for not taking their relationship into account when they figured out who to assign to her.

"Um. Thanks. I think. How'd they drag you into this project, honey? Band ghoul stuff not keeping you busy enough?"

"Tsk. I'm always happy to see you. It's just that I have actual work that actually has to be done, and you are not good for my productivity as a rule." She kisses his cheek.

It's tempting to slip an arm around his waist in turn. He's such a trim little thing that it's always far too tempting to do that. Alas, duty calls.

"Speaking of which. Could you put a couple of those boxes on the cart for me? I have to go shelve all these stupid things so I'd better get started."

With a reluctant sigh, he pulls away from her and picks out a couple of the boxes. The cart will probably fit two. It takes a smaller one to fit on the bottom shelf of the cart, but he's able to fit one of the large ones on top. Oof, it actually is a little heavy, even to him. What could possibly be in these boxes; bricks?!

She checks the sides of the boxes. There are notations scrawled on each one.

"Okay. The big one needs to go in the back, here. Coming with?"

He doesn't look too happy about having to do actual work, she thinks. No shock there. Still, she'd better at least make the attempt before he inevitably finds some way to distract her.

The shelves she wants are in the stacks toward the back of the main floor. They won't need the elevator for this box.

He walks close behind her and uses the elastic on his wrist to put his hair up in a loose bun. Not the most secure, but it’ll last for now.

Ugh. They've got to go on the higher shelves. Time to get a ladder.

As she works, she inevitably remembers earlier shenanigans with Dew, not to mention the especially grueling punishment V hit her with that one time. She's done her fair share of questionable things in this place.

She sets the ladder into place, grabs a couple of books, and starts to climb.

Well. She’s basically handed him an opportunity on a silver platter. Dew carefully leans on the ladder and tries to get a peek up her skirt. It’s a little hard with how long her habit it, but he eventually finds the perfect angle.

He was awfully quiet there for a minute or two, she thinks. Probably trying to look up my dress. The traditional habit is long enough to prevent casual flashing, but a determined enough pervert might manage it. And there are few perverts more determined than her Dewdrop. It's all part of his charm.

“Hm? Oh, sure.”

It’s difficult to take his eyes off of her, but he manages. He grabs a couple books as she asks and holds them up.

She carefully glances down his way, moving her head as little as possible. As it turns out, she needn't have used so much caution. He's far too busy staring to see her catching him at it.

"Enjoying the view?" she asks with a giggle.

His voice drops, eyes burning fire. "Why don't we fix that, then?" he purrs. "Take them off and toss them down. Give me a nice little show."

Why she always agrees to his little requests is a question for another day. It might be that voice he always uses on her. Or his burning eyes. His infernal beauty, her wish to please him. Or all of the above.

It's impossible to reach under her habit, especially in this awkward position, without showing everything in the process. She blushes, hoping nobody chooses this moment to really need this reference section. For a few moments, her skirts are essentially up around her waist.

She slides off her panties as quickly as she can -- not very, considering she's trying to maintain her balance at the same time. Her heart is pounding with the anxiety of risking being caught like this.

When she tosses them down, he catches them in one hand and brings them to his nose. Fuck, he's obsessed with her. He can pretend he's the boss all he wants, but she's got him wrapped around her finger.

This, despite her lingering blush, is only the truth. She'd do just about anything for him. Foolish, probably, but there's no help for it.

"Then I hope you won't mind letting me stare as we work a little more."

She takes the books from him and attempts to return to her task. It's a little harder to focus, maybe, than it was at the outset, but it's a small miracle he's actually letting her continue at all. She'd probably better take advantage of that for however long it lasts. No doubt he'll find some other way to interrupt before long.

She can't believe he's actually letting her work. What's going on in that gremlin brain?

She could take the initiative, she supposed, but she's already in trouble from the last time she did that. Not that he's been in any hurry to give her the threatened punishment. It hadn't been a terribly long time since he made that threat, but he hadn't been going out of his way to make any time for it either.

He's been doing that for a long time now; threatening to punish her and then never following through. She wasn't really sure why, especially since he'd continued to be as harsh with V as ever. It really wasn't like Dew to make empty threats of that kind. She'd been starting to think he simply didn't have any interest in doing that with her anymore, though she really couldn't guess why.

Well. If there were never any consequences, did it matter if she was a huge brat? She could test the theory.

Very, very risky thing to test in Dew's case, but she was starting to think it needed to be done. Even if it resulted in a more serious sort of punishment than not being able to sit for a few days.

As she turned these thoughts over in her mind, she managed to fill the upper level of shelves.

"Well, that's the lot for this section, anyway."

She started climbing down the ladder. "Sorry, honey. Show's over," she added dryly.

"It doesn't have to be over..." Dew purrs.

They are, as noted, still in the middle of the stacks.

"You want to get a study room?"

She wonders if she dares to risk a little experiment. She wonders what the consequences would be. This right here seems like it's too easy to really count as a punishment. She's had to hold back in public before under worse conditions plenty of times.

And if whatever he decides needs to happen has to happen somewhere else...well, she's been waiting anyway. It'll be fun to get him steamed in the meantime. Maybe. Possibly. Maybe not. She's doing it anyway.

Her hands are still free. He pulled her in, but she has options.

She reaches up and takes his hair tie out, then runs her fingers through his hair.

"I've tested my acting skills right out in public before, you know. Papa fingered me in the middle of a big formal event under a tablecloth one time. You going easy on me, honey?"

She gets her hands out of his hair and grabs his horns instead and pulls.

A rough growl is forced out of him when she suddenly tugs on his horns. It's nothing compared to the loud thud when he shoves her against the bookshelves so hard that the books rattle. Both of her wrists are instantly pinned near the sides of her head, his body flush against hers.

Hadn't he just had to reprimand her for forgetting her place?! He'd promised her a punishment and hadn't yet found the time to follow through, but clearly she's taken that as a sign that she can do whatever she likes. Seems like it's about time to rectify that.

"You think I'm going easy on you?" he growls. "Fine. We'll see how good those acting skills really are. We'll sit at your desk, the one you use for your illuminations, while I edge you for as long as I fucking want. If you survive, I'll drag you back to my room and give you the spanking you deserve."

Hannah should understand exactly why that's a worse threat. The illumination spaces are in an open room where others work at similar desks. Minimal privacy. No sound proofing. The room itself shouldn't be crowded exactly, but a busy day means people will likely be stopping by to ask her questions and whatnot. All while his mouth is on her under the desk.

Only part of her mind is processing the sense of the words he's saying. The rest only registers the growl.

Oh, she thinks. I've missed this with you.

It hasn't been the right time in quite a while. It's still not the right time, in fact this is possibly the least right time that could have been imagined, but it had simply been too long.

She supposes she should have taken the trouble to be a bigger brat well before this, but she'd been waiting. Waiting to see if he'd follow through on his earlier threats, waiting to find the right moment to act when he didn't. Well, the moment wasn't arriving. She'd had to make it herself.

She'd happily take whatever appalling consequences she'd brought upon herself. It meant that things were happening. Right now.

She wasn't sure why she'd had to push him so hard to get him to this point. He hadn't had that problem with V. Maybe she'd ask one or both of them later. For now, she had more pressing concerns.

The primary one was how to find an excuse to be in the scriptorium when she was meant to be out here in the stacks dealing with all of these book boxes. She supposed she could make something up -- a project accidentally left unfinished, maybe. Something that couldn't wait.

She'd been gazing into his copper eyes. They were burning into her own, she'd properly annoyed him now. She'd apologize for it later, if she still needed to by then. She might be able to expiate the fault just through her own endurance.

I love you, she thinks. I love you so much. It's a strange moment to think it, maybe, but this mood of his is part of why. A part she missed.

But all she says is

"Good girl. Lead the way."

Hannah has, thank Satan, also been there long enough to have a good-sized desk of her own.

Dew won't have ever been here, she realizes. Figures this would be his introduction to the place.

She leads him to her spot. Big desk, fairly comfortable desk chair. Nearby shelving and drawers full of supplies.

Nobody seems to be here at the moment. The people who didn't call out are probably all out dealing with the boxes, where she's supposed to be.

She takes up a page she'd been working on earlier, but had to set aside in favor of the boxes. It was still in the pencil stage, so if she messed it up, it would be comparatively easy to fix.

Calloused fingertips and pointed claws start to trail up her calves with an agonizing slowness. Soft patterns are traced into sensitive skin, rising higher and higher.

Fingertips trail closer to her core and gently spread her legs. His one blessing is that he doesn't hike her skirt up too high and instead just tucks himself underneath it. Easier access that way. It's all too easy to lean forward and teasingly run a finger over her folds.

Come on, Dew prays. Someone walk in. It's no fun if they're all alone here, and not a punishment that way either. Gimme something good.

True to form, it's not long before her luck runs out. Her misfortune arrives in the form of a novice. One of the scriptorium trainees.

She'll just have to manage as best she can. Thank Satan she's had some practice with the boys already. One of V's favorite tricks is to start something under the tablecloth at Ministry events.

In retrospect, it's no wonder Dew immediately clocked what she was up to at that Halloween party last year. It's one of his favorite tricks, too.

"Of course. What can I help you with?"

If her grip on her pencil is a little tighter than might be strictly necessary, it's something you'd have to be looking for specifically to catch.

"So I'm trying to put some of those books away? But I've never been to that part of the archives. How do I get to where these are?"

One part of her brain is dealing with Dew's attentions. Set it aside to the extent possible, whatever that may be.

The rest is trying to explain to the earnest novice how to find one of the more obscure parts of the vast, maze-like library.

"You want the older reference section -- not the one on this floor, the one three floors down from here."

"But I have a book cart and the elevator doesn't go to that floor."

"Yeah, no, you need the other elevator, the one down the hall from the main one --"

She lets go of her pencil. She was dangerously close to snapping it in half.

She's going to murder Dew when this is all over. Assuming she's still functional by then.

He starts to rock his face towards and away from her, creating a delicious pattern of pressure that he knows has driven her crazy in the past. Memories come to mind of her writhing in his bed while he gives her head, moaning and crying out his name. The memory of those sounds makes up for the ones she can't make now.

"You want to turn right down the hall, then another right. The big room there, just go to the center aisle between the stacks."

A certain amount of breath control is involved by this time. The horrible gremlin's getting serious about it now, she can tell. He's never going to let her forget about this afterwards, is he? She allows her annoyance to help keep her responses in order.

"So how far into the stacks in that room is the center?"

"It's three shelves in. I think. Three --"

It's at this point that the little fucker brushes her clit. She has to turn the yelp into a cough. She makes it a bad one so she'll have a chance to catch her breath.

"Sorry. Been dealing with a lot of dust on those old books today."

Gradually, Dew begins to slow down his movements again. He returns to that slow pace until it nearly stops entirely. All that's left are his lips on her, kissing in a way that could nearly be considered chaste if the kiss was anywhere else.

"I'm okay, I guess. I might go home for a bit soon, but I have to finish this or I'll be too far behind on this project --"

"Oh! Okay. Good luck. Thanks for the directions."

"You're welcome." Smiling through gritted teeth.

The novice finally scurries off, and the door closes once more.

She endures a full-body shudder now that she's no longer holding back. His touch is unbearable; she wants to grab his hair and push herself against him, but even if they hadn't been here, she couldn't have. Not with him. One didn't.

The bites are enjoyable in their own way. She resigns herself to her fate. It was her own fault for pushing him, wasn't it? If he'd wanted to make empty threats, surely that was his right? She'd broken her own rule about never asking for anything and never pushing him, even if she'd done it in a roundabout way, and this was the consequence.

The tension she'd been forced to carry while the novice had been here threatened to spill over in some unfortunate way. She takes deep, slow breaths as best she can. If she must be left hanging, at least she can be a well-behaved toy and deal with it herself.

Dew pulls his head out of her skirt and peeks up at her from below the desk.

Kind of him to stop the torture early. She'd been sure she was in for much worse than one spoiled orgasm. He must be feeling more lenient than she'd thought.

She switches into Infernal without really thinking about it. These days, she often spoke it with him primarily if not exclusively when they were alone. The immersion practice had improved her fluency far faster than the coursework could ever have done alone.

Dew smiles back at her and turns his head to kiss the side of her knee.

She works her hands under his shirt. He's running hot, even more than usual for him, near-feverish under her palms.

Those moans she lets out invade his senses, occupying all his thoughts. More. He needs to hear more of those.

"Yes, Sir."

As soon as he's entirely bare, he climbs behind her on the bed.

"Mm, one of my favorite views of you," he snickers as he shamelessly gropes her ass.

The teasing, on the other hand, is rather less surprising, although she'd thought he'd been too distracted by his own need to be bothering with that. In any case, she's aware that he's also merely telling the truth, so she can't complain too much.

"I promised you a good, thorough spanking, didn't I, toy?" he purrs.

It had been a really long time since he'd done this with her. She hoped he was getting something out of this, and tried to get herself into the right headspace to take it.

He grabs her by the hips and grinds himself against her ass, groaning through a bitten lip. Fuck, that's good. So, so good. So good that he nearly loses himself in the pleasure of her body against his own, obsessed with the feeling of her. He pulls back breathing heavily.

"Fuck, those sounds you make. Lemme hear you moan my title."

The sting builds and a blush rises on her face as well as her ass; a response to the way he's placed her like this, the things she lets him do to her. It's mild enough humiliation compared to what V needs from him, but she feels it all the same. She can feel her skin flush redder with every hit along with a deeper sting when he spanks her over his bite. She'll be carrying that bruise for a good long while, she thinks. The pain of that spot will linger for some time after the rest of the redness fades. It's as if he's signed his name into her flesh.

It's in these moments with him, with her skirts around her waist, bottom-up for an easy target, that everything he's done to her today comes together in her mind. This way he has of layering mortifications, leaving her feeling exposed and used.

She's been crying out with every slap. She tries to comply with this latest demand.

In any case, she'd do just about anything for him if he told her to in that feral growl of his. No doubt he knows it.

Her ass is really starting to sting in earnest by now. Dew never holds back out of some misdirected urge toward mercy, something she values in him very much. His natural tendency to be strict and harsh appeals to her just as much as it does to V, just applied a bit differently. Both of them trust him to know where the line is, and he's earned that trust many times over. It frees her up to give in to his discipline completely, knowing that she can handle whatever he dishes out.

The truth of the matter is that she loves all of it, no matter how much he makes her blush to endure it. In the end, she does feel claimed by him because of it; both kept in line and jealously guarded. It's a form of deep safety in its way, being able to give herself completely into his hands like this. The hot sting on her cheeks is an intimate reminder that lasts for days afterwards, too, of having been wanted and marked by his desire.

All of it together feels like love. It feels like love she's allowed to say yes to.

And so she's good for him, crying out louder.

"Good girl. Perfect toy," he whispers breathlessly and finally lets up on the blows.

He rests against her for a moment, trying to catch his breath. Calloused fingertips skim against her new marks, light as a feather. The red blush matches perfectly to the blossoming bruise from his bite. It's almost an art piece, really.

Something in his heart goes soft, so suddenly that he momentarily worries he's got a medical condition. He feels this love for her so physically in his chest, deep and expansive. Satanas, it's overwhelming.

"You're welcome, hot stuff." He smiles even though she can't see him.

Once the camera is back on the nightstand, he wastes no more time. Sharp claws grab her hips and tug them backwards. In an instant, he's seated inside her wet heat, bottoming out as if there's no resistance at all. He rolls his hips deep inside her as his mouth hangs open with pleasure. Fuck, he's been waiting for this all day.

"Shit," he hisses on a breathy exhale.

It's so easy to start getting lost in the sensations. She's so tight around him without any prep; it's like she's made to perfectly take his cock. He pushes as deep as he can on every thrust, desperate for as much of her as he can get.

"S-so good," she gasps.

And then his hand is on her and her vision whites out.

The feeling of her suddenly tightening around him—

"Yes, yes, yes—!"

"Fuck, you're good," he murmurs. "Perfect toy, made just for me."

She trails off into a breathless giggle. It's nearly too much, but he feels so good that it scarcely matters.

"Mmh. So are you."

How can he hold back when she moans so beautifully? Dew rolls his hips inside her one last time, slow and sensual.

She shouldn't be this responsive to him again this quickly, she knows that. She must be at that point in her cycle. Either that or it's just him. Impossible to be sure. Not when she's as crazy about him as she is.

He is acting a bit like he did during his rut overall, isn't he? Unusual for him, but at least they'll know what to do if he gets hit with that again.

She thinks she'll put off calling V next time, assuming there is a next time. Fuck being old, she's relatively sturdy for her age. She's curious how much of that she can deal with herself before she has to tap out. Probably more than she did last time if she knew it was going to happen first.

She idly wonders if it's possible to synch up a human cycle with a ghoulish one. That would certainly be more convenient, though she doubts it's biologically possible.

"Well then... you won't mind giving me one more, right, toy?" he purrs, voice sweet and sticky like honey.

Right on the edge of being overstimulated, she still can't help but respond to him. His touch makes her shiver, the push of his hips against her ass is sweet even through the sting. It's only teasing when he tells her so, but she really feels as though she was made for him.

He quickens his pace on her clit.

When he pulls out, she collapses onto her stomach next to him, feeling somewhat boneless and very aware that what now feels like a luscious warmth in her ass is going to be very sore to sit on when the endorphins ebb a little. She doesn't mind in the least. It's exactly what she'd wanted.

"Love you too."

"Teddy ghoul," she murmurs. As far as she knows, it has no precise Infernal translation.

It had been another of those impatient nights for them where he hadn't even had her undress, so she remains as she is, leaving her skirts around her waist. The idea of putting fabric on top of her tender skin doesn't seem appealing just now. Dew's plenty warm anyway, what does she need layers for?

"I guess I should move at some point, huh?"

In theory she should go back to work. It's a bit late in the day, but she could probably catch up a bit on those boxes. it's difficult to find the motivation, though.

"What time even is it? Is my shift over by now? I've lost track."

With a strong hand on her shoulder, he rolls her onto her back so he can lay directly on top of her. It’s only an instant until he’s kissing her deeply and cradling her face in his hands. Her lips are so soft and addictive… It’s been too long since he’s had her like this.

Although, it does make her wonder just a bit more strongly whether he's near another rut. He usually doesn't do this. Usually about this time he'd be asking her if he should walk her home or something of the kind.

However, she's more than happy to follow this mood of his wherever it's going. She can never get enough of him as it is.

"I don't want you to let me go either, honey."

She returns the kiss, slowly drinking him in. He's a perfect warm weight on top of her and she runs her hands over him, toying with his hair, stroking his back. There's nothing in the way and she takes her time with him as she so rarely seems to, enjoying the feel of soft gray skin over wiry muscle.

Does it matter? Possibly not. She's already doing pretty much what she would have anyway if he'd told her that was happening. At some point either he'll get it out of his system or she'll get tired and call V, right? It's not as if V would complain about coming over here for that.

She's perfectly willing to call out of work on account of boyfriend incapacitated by horniness. She's played hooky for less. Ghoul rut counts as "medical reasons", surely?

His bites feel so good, and she's always proud to wear his marks. She always will be.

Oh. Those specific things he'd said. Well, there's no doubt about it now. Dew rests his forehead on her upper chest and starts to chuckle.

She runs a hand through his hair.

"Yeah, it's kinda just whenever. Side effect of putting pure sin in a mortal form. Rain tends to get his in clusters really close together; maybe I'm spending too much time with him," he chuckles, then clears his throat as he switches languages. Probably best not to risk getting horny over it again. "But yeah. I kinda wish it was on a schedule, but that would be too convenient clearly. Not that I mind spending rut with you, hot stuff."

He gives her another smooch on the cheek.

Hannah looks at the enormous piles of boxes in the library. They've been stacked like cordwood near the circulation desk for eventual distribution to the shelves.

It's a bequest from a wealthy Satanist's estate. It's not unusual for the faithful to will their book collections to the library, but they're usually not quite this big. Do they even have enough shelf space for them all? She has no idea. They'll just have to make room somehow.

They've been working on this project for a while already. All the books had to be entered into the catalog before they could be shelved. This at least has allowed them to group things together in the boxes that have to go to the same parts of the stacks. She only had to help with part of that earlier, but they had more staff on hand at the time.

Naturally they've been pulling every library staffer available to help with this project ever since the books came in. Unfortunately, "everyone" available today is far fewer people than usual. There are people out sick. There are people on vacation. There are people doing other special projects on a deadline who can't be pulled.

It's so bad that they're actually going to have to get one of the ghouls to come in to be an extra pair of hands. Part of the reasoning is that their strength will help them schlep these huge boxes onto the library carts, but honestly, it seems like they're desperate for any help they can get.

Hannah, of course, is going to be doing a lot of the shelving. She wonders which of the ghouls will be showing up to assist and whether it's anybody she knows. It's so chaotic in here today that nobody's bothered to give her any details, but whoever it is should be showing up any time now.

They'd better be, anyway. This is going to take forever as it is.

Dew yawns as the library attendant rattles on in his ear. She walks him down the ministry hallways to the library, having fetched him from the mess hall. Boxes, books, blah blah blah. Only one thing is important here. This means he gets to bother Hannah all day.

His tail swings side to side excitedly at the thought. It's been a while since he visitied her at work, and now they'll be stuck together all day. Perfect. Well, probably a nightmare for Hannah. It's alright. She'll be begging for him before long. He grins wildly as ideas flash in his mind. Oh, they're going to have a lot of fun.

The attendant steers him towards a massive pile of boxes, where a familiar figure is standing with her back to them. Dew only barely resists the urge to wolf whistle. Always a good view of her ass.

A very familiar face. Wearing an equally familiar giant shit-eating grin.

Is it really possible there's anybody left in her workplace that doesn't already know she's involved with Dew? Seriously? This one must've been living under a rock.

She seriously considers crawling under one now herself.

It's not that she's not happy to see him or to be spending time with him. Far from it. The more the better. However, her job is really not the ideal environment.

Not that they haven't had fun together during past visits of his. They had. It just always ends up being shockingly unproductive as a result.

Well, there's no help for it. If she doesn't get anything done it'll be their own fault for not taking their relationship into account when they figured out who to assign to her.

"Um. Thanks. I think. How'd they drag you into this project, honey? Band ghoul stuff not keeping you busy enough?"

"Tsk. I'm always happy to see you. It's just that I have actual work that actually has to be done, and you are not good for my productivity as a rule." She kisses his cheek.

It's tempting to slip an arm around his waist in turn. He's such a trim little thing that it's always far too tempting to do that. Alas, duty calls.

"Speaking of which. Could you put a couple of those boxes on the cart for me? I have to go shelve all these stupid things so I'd better get started."

With a reluctant sigh, he pulls away from her and picks out a couple of the boxes. The cart will probably fit two. It takes a smaller one to fit on the bottom shelf of the cart, but he's able to fit one of the large ones on top. Oof, it actually is a little heavy, even to him. What could possibly be in these boxes; bricks?!

She checks the sides of the boxes. There are notations scrawled on each one.

"Okay. The big one needs to go in the back, here. Coming with?"

He doesn't look too happy about having to do actual work, she thinks. No shock there. Still, she'd better at least make the attempt before he inevitably finds some way to distract her.

The shelves she wants are in the stacks toward the back of the main floor. They won't need the elevator for this box.

He walks close behind her and uses the elastic on his wrist to put his hair up in a loose bun. Not the most secure, but it’ll last for now.

Ugh. They've got to go on the higher shelves. Time to get a ladder.

As she works, she inevitably remembers earlier shenanigans with Dew, not to mention the especially grueling punishment V hit her with that one time. She's done her fair share of questionable things in this place.

She sets the ladder into place, grabs a couple of books, and starts to climb.

Well. She’s basically handed him an opportunity on a silver platter. Dew carefully leans on the ladder and tries to get a peek up her skirt. It’s a little hard with how long her habit it, but he eventually finds the perfect angle.

He was awfully quiet there for a minute or two, she thinks. Probably trying to look up my dress. The traditional habit is long enough to prevent casual flashing, but a determined enough pervert might manage it. And there are few perverts more determined than her Dewdrop. It's all part of his charm.

“Hm? Oh, sure.”

It’s difficult to take his eyes off of her, but he manages. He grabs a couple books as she asks and holds them up.

She carefully glances down his way, moving her head as little as possible. As it turns out, she needn't have used so much caution. He's far too busy staring to see her catching him at it.

"Enjoying the view?" she asks with a giggle.

His voice drops, eyes burning fire. "Why don't we fix that, then?" he purrs. "Take them off and toss them down. Give me a nice little show."

Why she always agrees to his little requests is a question for another day. It might be that voice he always uses on her. Or his burning eyes. His infernal beauty, her wish to please him. Or all of the above.

It's impossible to reach under her habit, especially in this awkward position, without showing everything in the process. She blushes, hoping nobody chooses this moment to really need this reference section. For a few moments, her skirts are essentially up around her waist.

She slides off her panties as quickly as she can -- not very, considering she's trying to maintain her balance at the same time. Her heart is pounding with the anxiety of risking being caught like this.

When she tosses them down, he catches them in one hand and brings them to his nose. Fuck, he's obsessed with her. He can pretend he's the boss all he wants, but she's got him wrapped around her finger.

This, despite her lingering blush, is only the truth. She'd do just about anything for him. Foolish, probably, but there's no help for it.

"Then I hope you won't mind letting me stare as we work a little more."

She takes the books from him and attempts to return to her task. It's a little harder to focus, maybe, than it was at the outset, but it's a small miracle he's actually letting her continue at all. She'd probably better take advantage of that for however long it lasts. No doubt he'll find some other way to interrupt before long.

She can't believe he's actually letting her work. What's going on in that gremlin brain?

She could take the initiative, she supposed, but she's already in trouble from the last time she did that. Not that he's been in any hurry to give her the threatened punishment. It hadn't been a terribly long time since he made that threat, but he hadn't been going out of his way to make any time for it either.

He's been doing that for a long time now; threatening to punish her and then never following through. She wasn't really sure why, especially since he'd continued to be as harsh with V as ever. It really wasn't like Dew to make empty threats of that kind. She'd been starting to think he simply didn't have any interest in doing that with her anymore, though she really couldn't guess why.

Well. If there were never any consequences, did it matter if she was a huge brat? She could test the theory.

Very, very risky thing to test in Dew's case, but she was starting to think it needed to be done. Even if it resulted in a more serious sort of punishment than not being able to sit for a few days.

As she turned these thoughts over in her mind, she managed to fill the upper level of shelves.

"Well, that's the lot for this section, anyway."

She started climbing down the ladder. "Sorry, honey. Show's over," she added dryly.

"It doesn't have to be over..." Dew purrs.

They are, as noted, still in the middle of the stacks.

"You want to get a study room?"

She wonders if she dares to risk a little experiment. She wonders what the consequences would be. This right here seems like it's too easy to really count as a punishment. She's had to hold back in public before under worse conditions plenty of times.

And if whatever he decides needs to happen has to happen somewhere else...well, she's been waiting anyway. It'll be fun to get him steamed in the meantime. Maybe. Possibly. Maybe not. She's doing it anyway.

Her hands are still free. He pulled her in, but she has options.

She reaches up and takes his hair tie out, then runs her fingers through his hair.

"I've tested my acting skills right out in public before, you know. Papa fingered me in the middle of a big formal event under a tablecloth one time. You going easy on me, honey?"

She gets her hands out of his hair and grabs his horns instead and pulls.

A rough growl is forced out of him when she suddenly tugs on his horns. It's nothing compared to the loud thud when he shoves her against the bookshelves so hard that the books rattle. Both of her wrists are instantly pinned near the sides of her head, his body flush against hers.

Hadn't he just had to reprimand her for forgetting her place?! He'd promised her a punishment and hadn't yet found the time to follow through, but clearly she's taken that as a sign that she can do whatever she likes. Seems like it's about time to rectify that.

"You think I'm going easy on you?" he growls. "Fine. We'll see how good those acting skills really are. We'll sit at your desk, the one you use for your illuminations, while I edge you for as long as I fucking want. If you survive, I'll drag you back to my room and give you the spanking you deserve."

Hannah should understand exactly why that's a worse threat. The illumination spaces are in an open room where others work at similar desks. Minimal privacy. No sound proofing. The room itself shouldn't be crowded exactly, but a busy day means people will likely be stopping by to ask her questions and whatnot. All while his mouth is on her under the desk.

Only part of her mind is processing the sense of the words he's saying. The rest only registers the growl.

Oh, she thinks. I've missed this with you.

It hasn't been the right time in quite a while. It's still not the right time, in fact this is possibly the least right time that could have been imagined, but it had simply been too long.

She supposes she should have taken the trouble to be a bigger brat well before this, but she'd been waiting. Waiting to see if he'd follow through on his earlier threats, waiting to find the right moment to act when he didn't. Well, the moment wasn't arriving. She'd had to make it herself.

She'd happily take whatever appalling consequences she'd brought upon herself. It meant that things were happening. Right now.

She wasn't sure why she'd had to push him so hard to get him to this point. He hadn't had that problem with V. Maybe she'd ask one or both of them later. For now, she had more pressing concerns.

The primary one was how to find an excuse to be in the scriptorium when she was meant to be out here in the stacks dealing with all of these book boxes. She supposed she could make something up -- a project accidentally left unfinished, maybe. Something that couldn't wait.

She'd been gazing into his copper eyes. They were burning into her own, she'd properly annoyed him now. She'd apologize for it later, if she still needed to by then. She might be able to expiate the fault just through her own endurance.

I love you, she thinks. I love you so much. It's a strange moment to think it, maybe, but this mood of his is part of why. A part she missed.

But all she says is

"Good girl. Lead the way."

Hannah has, thank Satan, also been there long enough to have a good-sized desk of her own.

Dew won't have ever been here, she realizes. Figures this would be his introduction to the place.

She leads him to her spot. Big desk, fairly comfortable desk chair. Nearby shelving and drawers full of supplies.

Nobody seems to be here at the moment. The people who didn't call out are probably all out dealing with the boxes, where she's supposed to be.

She takes up a page she'd been working on earlier, but had to set aside in favor of the boxes. It was still in the pencil stage, so if she messed it up, it would be comparatively easy to fix.

Calloused fingertips and pointed claws start to trail up her calves with an agonizing slowness. Soft patterns are traced into sensitive skin, rising higher and higher.

Fingertips trail closer to her core and gently spread her legs. His one blessing is that he doesn't hike her skirt up too high and instead just tucks himself underneath it. Easier access that way. It's all too easy to lean forward and teasingly run a finger over her folds.

Come on, Dew prays. Someone walk in. It's no fun if they're all alone here, and not a punishment that way either. Gimme something good.

True to form, it's not long before her luck runs out. Her misfortune arrives in the form of a novice. One of the scriptorium trainees.

She'll just have to manage as best she can. Thank Satan she's had some practice with the boys already. One of V's favorite tricks is to start something under the tablecloth at Ministry events.

In retrospect, it's no wonder Dew immediately clocked what she was up to at that Halloween party last year. It's one of his favorite tricks, too.

"Of course. What can I help you with?"

If her grip on her pencil is a little tighter than might be strictly necessary, it's something you'd have to be looking for specifically to catch.

"So I'm trying to put some of those books away? But I've never been to that part of the archives. How do I get to where these are?"

One part of her brain is dealing with Dew's attentions. Set it aside to the extent possible, whatever that may be.

The rest is trying to explain to the earnest novice how to find one of the more obscure parts of the vast, maze-like library.

"You want the older reference section -- not the one on this floor, the one three floors down from here."

"But I have a book cart and the elevator doesn't go to that floor."

"Yeah, no, you need the other elevator, the one down the hall from the main one --"

She lets go of her pencil. She was dangerously close to snapping it in half.

She's going to murder Dew when this is all over. Assuming she's still functional by then.

He starts to rock his face towards and away from her, creating a delicious pattern of pressure that he knows has driven her crazy in the past. Memories come to mind of her writhing in his bed while he gives her head, moaning and crying out his name. The memory of those sounds makes up for the ones she can't make now.

"You want to turn right down the hall, then another right. The big room there, just go to the center aisle between the stacks."

A certain amount of breath control is involved by this time. The horrible gremlin's getting serious about it now, she can tell. He's never going to let her forget about this afterwards, is he? She allows her annoyance to help keep her responses in order.

"So how far into the stacks in that room is the center?"

"It's three shelves in. I think. Three --"

It's at this point that the little fucker brushes her clit. She has to turn the yelp into a cough. She makes it a bad one so she'll have a chance to catch her breath.

"Sorry. Been dealing with a lot of dust on those old books today."

Gradually, Dew begins to slow down his movements again. He returns to that slow pace until it nearly stops entirely. All that's left are his lips on her, kissing in a way that could nearly be considered chaste if the kiss was anywhere else.

"I'm okay, I guess. I might go home for a bit soon, but I have to finish this or I'll be too far behind on this project --"

"Oh! Okay. Good luck. Thanks for the directions."

"You're welcome." Smiling through gritted teeth.

The novice finally scurries off, and the door closes once more.

She endures a full-body shudder now that she's no longer holding back. His touch is unbearable; she wants to grab his hair and push herself against him, but even if they hadn't been here, she couldn't have. Not with him. One didn't.