"Sorry I'm so late, the flight was a horror," Olivia said, walking past him as he reached for the door. Her eyes swept the room, which hadn't changed much since her last visit, and rested at last on his desk. Though his recent work was spread over the desk's surface it was uncluttered: a mug, a few books, a notepad, his rolodex, an old phone. She thought of this for a moment, placing the incongruity of this neat researcher's desk up against her memories of the angry, brash young man he'd been.
"Oh no. Bad weather?" His voice cut into her brief reverie and she looked back to him, watching the shadow of concern on his face, the care he took with her luggage.
"Baseball movie," she said, gratified by his sudden broad grin, the sparkle in his eyes. She could read the darkening there, though, could feel the long frustrating hours spent over the ocean and America evaporating in the face of this promise.
"I'm so sorry," he said, infinitely polite even in his amusement. There had been a time she would have been against the wall four steps from the door. Their drifting together was suddenly too slow for Olivia.
"Yeah," she acknowledged, barely. "That's enough small talk, don't you think?"
She got the answer she had been hoping for: the solace of his mouth, the surety of his hands beginning to drift over her body.
* * * * *
London, 1978
Olivia knocked lightly on the door as she pushed it inward, peering cautiously into the house. A month of scolding had still not broken her of the habit, and when Ethan's head popped out of the kitchen his dark, expressive eyes narrowed in a mock glare.
"That'd better not be you knocking, Liv," he said, as though he hadn't seen her.
She snorted, stepping inside and letting the door swing shut behind her. She threw her purse down near the door and kicked her shoes off, stretching up on her toes.
"It was one of those ghastly neighborhood children," she said as she let her arms drop and sauntered toward the kitchen. "Always knocking and running away just as I'm coming in. You really should talk to their parents about it."
"Manners these days," Ethan tutted primly.
"Hullo, gorgeous," Ripper murmured a moment before he grabbed her hips, pulling her the rest of the way into the kitchen. He drew one hand up her back and let the other slide down over her arse as he pushed his mouth up against hers, smothering her laughter. After a moment she draped one arm over his shoulder, settling into the kiss.
"Mmm," she breathed when he finally pulled back, "what was that about manners?"
"I'm sure you wouldn't know," Ethan said pointedly, standing next to the counter with his hands on his hips. Olivia grinned, shaking her head as she twisted out of Ripper's arms and crossed to the other man. She made her last few steps into a slink, her hips rolling up against him as she touched the tip of her tongue to his lower lip, then drew it teasingly into her mouth.
"You do know how to improve a girl's night," she said after she had released him from a lingering kiss. She kept one arm circled around his waist and leaned her head on his shoulder, still smiling a little.
"What's wrong, my ducky darling?" Ethan asked, his hand drifting up into her braids.
"Flatmate issues," she said, her nose wrinkling slightly in distaste.
"Well, we've just the thing for that," the younger man said with a sly grin. "You remember our little harvest?"
Olivia lifted her head, peering behind him to the counter as she said, "It's finally done?" There was a neat collection of leaves there, along with a little package of rolling papers and a tin of tobacco.
"I'll teach you how to roll one," Ripper offered.
* * *
"You get the honors," Ethan said a little while later, when they had migrated to the living room. The coffee table had been pushed out of the way and they were seated in the center of the oversized rug. Olivia fussed at the end of the joint she had rolled, frowning as she tapped the paper.
"It's beautiful," Ripper assured her, flicking on the lighter with a quick snap of his thumb. "Try to breathe it into your lungs, not just your mouth."
She grinned nervously, blowing out a quick breath before sticking the joint into her mouth and leaning forward so he could light the end. She sucked in for a moment, her forehead crinkling. She pulled the joint out of her mouth only after her eyes began stinging, and she held it away from her body while she coughed. Ethan smoothed a hand over her back, grinning and plucking the joint out of her fingers.
"Very nice, luv," he said. "It gets easier."
And indeed everything was much easier by the time they had finished the first. Olivia was grinning like mad, watching the last curl of smoke drift upwards, and she found herself much less rankled when she finally meandered back to why she'd come over in the first place.
"John," she said suddenly. "Abbie's boyfriend." Ripper's eyes narrowed slightly, and she stared at them for a moment, considering the subtle shading of blue, the shadow of brown in the left.
"We need to rough him up, then?" Ethan asked.
"Hmm? Oh, no," she said, giggling and leaning back against the couch. She drew one leg up, pushing the other out in front of her, and for a moment both men stared at it. "He's Sam's da, right? And he's suddenly decided to give up the complete wanker routine and try to be decent for a while. So he wants to move back in. And of course Abbie wants Sam to have it. Family."
"And?" Ripper prompted.
"And nothing. I have to find a new flat. And I hate flathunting. Ergo." She grinned, sweeping her hand in a loose, encompassing gesture that suggested she had just laid the entire world bare for them.
"Ah," said Ethan, breathing out a smooth mouthful of smoke from the next joint. His eyes slid up to Ripper's, and Olivia watched them look at one another for a minute. Finally the older boy nodded, glancing back at her.
"Well, we have plenty of room," he said. "You can move in whenever."
"What?" Olivia laughed, turning her disbelieving look from him to Ethan. "I can't afford a house."
"It's not expensive," the sorcerer said. "You practically live here anyway. You'd save loads on cab fare, and us on petrol."
"This is silly," she said.
"We're perfectly serious." Ripper passed the joint back to Ethan and crawled forward, his hand floating up Olivia's thigh as he pressed a soft kiss to her lips. "At least think about it," he added, before covering her mouth again. It fell open and his tongue dipped in, glancing against hers. She groaned quietly, folding her leg up so her inner thigh slid against his hip, her fingers pushing into his hair.
He twisted, settling against the couch and pulling her into his lap. She bent over him as he slouched his hips forward, her hair falling around his face and her teeth catching lightly over his tongue. Ethan stubbed the joint out, slinking toward them with a lazy grin.
"I think it's a yes, then," he said, catching the back of Olivia's shirt with the heels of his palms and pushing it slowly up. The first kiss he planted at the base of her spine, and from there he traced her rising shirt with his mouth, licking slowly up her vertebrae. He lingered laughingly at her bra, finally managing to unclasp it with his teeth.
"Such one-track minds," she murmured while Ripper tossed her shirt aside and pulled his hands down her arms, his fingers crooking around the thin white straps of her bra.
"Have you seen the three of us?" Ethan asked with a small smirk, his tongue curling into the soft little place behind her ear. She gasped, his hand on her stomach steadying her body when it twitched forward. "Irresistible, I think they call it," he murmured before pulling her earlobe between his lips. His hand drifted upward, cupping one of her breasts, and she stared down at it.
"I've been dreaming about these all day." Ripper leaned forward, his tongue circling her gathering nipple before he finally closed his mouth around it. She watched in rapt fascination: his eyes slitted in pleasure, his lips working, the occasional flash of his teeth or tongue, the press of her flesh against him with each indrawn breath. Everything was sparking straight down between her legs and then someone was easing her zipper open. She fell back against Ethan with a little whimper, rocking forward against his hand. He caught his arm around her waist and gave her a gentle tug, and then she found herself stretched out on her back, staring at the ceiling.
"Wow," she said as she was lifted a little, her jeans and underwear tugged down. She giggled as she slid one foot free, stretching it upward and reveling in the slightly cool air moving over her skin. "We need to do this all the time."
"Fuck?" Ripper asked, tossing his shirt aside.
"That too." She pushed her arms up over her head, then her eyes fell on Ethan and she clapped twice. "I want to see," she declared.
"I could go for that," Ripper muttered as he nudged her thighs apart.
"Seeing?" She caught her finger in one of Ethan's beltloops, tugging him forward as she glanced down at the older boy.
"Fucking all the time," he corrected. "Such a pretty cunny." He grinned, running his thumb lightly over her.
"Don't tease," Ethan gasped. "She scratches."
"Oh, you like it," she said, drawing her nails around the bared skin of his hip again before she pushed his trousers down. They fell to his knees and she trailed her index finger leisurely up the underside of his erection, still grinning. "And I like this." She pulled his foreskin back and ran her thumb lightly around the glistening head of his cock; he groaned, his chin tipping down. "Oh god, and that," she muttered. Her head fell back and her hand closed around Ethan as Ripper's tongue traced its slow, wet path again.
"So agreeable," Ripper murmured before ducking his face again, the tip of his tongue flicking and two of his fingers gliding into her slick, close warmth. She choked in a quick breath, her thighs falling further open.
"Nngh, god, yeah," she said, letting her free hand snake down her stomach and push into his hair.
"Livvie," Ethan said, his voice a little strained as he shifted his hips entreatingly against her still grip.
"Shh," she muttered, her eyes widening as she stared at the ceiling. "Concentrating." Below her Ripper laughed and she groaned, tugging softly at his hair. "Don't stop."
"Naughty Ripper," Ethan murmured, prying Olivia's fingers off of himself and stretching beside her. He kicked the rest of his clothes off, nibbling up her ribcage to the heavy undercurve of one of her breasts and sucking at the soft skin there.
"Such bad boys," she agreed vaguely, cupping the back of the sorcerer's neck before her voice melted into wordless encouragements. She moved helplessly beneath them, writhing and pushing herself against their insistent mouths, Ripper's driving fingers. She swallowed harshly, twisting, then tugged at the older boy's hair again. He pulled his face back, flicking a glance up at her as she arched, her body gone rigid. His cheek fell against her inner thigh and he lay there panting as she was lost, quivering through her orgasm.
"Mmm," she hummed when she had finally relaxed back down onto the rug, her limbs splayed, her fingers drifting lazily through Ethan's hair. "That was very nice."
The sorcerer rested his head against her ribcage, grinning to himself as he touched the dark, mottled mark he'd left on her skin. She eyed him suspiciously, but as she lifted her head to peer at herself she caught sight of Ripper and frowned.
"You," she said accusingly, pushing a warning against Ethan's shoulder before she sat up. "Are not naked." Ripper grinned, leaving his head pillowed on her leg as he blinked up at her.
"Are you going to do something about it, then?" he asked.
"Mmhm. Maybe even give you a little spank." She slid out from underneath him, pushing him onto his back and seating herself at his hip, her hand rubbing over the tented front of his trousers. "What do you think, Eth?"
"Oh yes," he said, his eyes sparkling. He bent over and Ripper tilted his head up to catch the offered kiss. Olivia stared at them for a minute, absently stroking at the older boy before she remembered the clothing issue. Tearing her eyes from them, she unfastened Ripper's trousers, pulled them off, and crawled back up his long legs. She considered him for a moment, then pulled his foreskin back and laved her tongue up his cock, making a quick swoop around the swollen head and drawing it into her mouth.
Ethan glanced back to see what had cut his kiss short, grinning as he watched her. There was a little crinkle of concentration between her delicately-arched eyebrows and she pushed both of her palms up the insides of Ripper's thighs, smoothing them over his hips to keep him still.
"That's a rather funny sort of spanking," the younger man noted. Olivia drew her mouth slowly off of the other man's cock, giving it a last thoughtful lick as her eyes lifted.
"Mmm, you're right." She pushed herself up, giving the side of Ripper's hip a quick pat. "Roll over."
He propped himself up on his elbows, peering down at her and saying, "I think we should explore the new form of spanking a bit longer."
"Roll," she said, patting him again. He sighed but twisted, pushing himself up on his hands and knees. "Much better," she murmured, smoothing her palm appreciatively over his arse before giving it a light smack. She giggled, giving the other side a quick slap.
Ethan too was laughing, even after Ripper pulled his legs out from beneath him and flipped him onto his back, folding his knees toward his chest. Olivia watched the proceedings with undisguised delight as Ripper repeated her spanking on the younger man. Ethan managed to catch his hand at the back of the other man's neck and drew him closer, coaxing him into another kiss, and he forgot entirely about what he was supposed to be doing.
Ripper settled there, pinning the sorcerer with his demanding tongue and his absently swiveling hips and the hands over his wrists. He lost himself in Ethan's mouth, which tasted of pot and tobacco and a faint coppery edge of magic.
"I can't see." Olivia's voice broke through to his drifting mind and Ripper pulled himself back, rising to his knees. He glanced at her and she, still grinning, held up a tube of lubricant. When he reached for it she snatched it back. "I want to."
"Oh?" Ripper glanced from her to Ethan in vague surprise, but his mouth was curling up and he shifted back to give her his place. "Shall we show her how, then?"
"Any time," Ethan smirked, lifting his hips a little.
"I think I can figure it out," Olivia said, snorting out a short breath as she knelt below the sorcerer. Ripper pressed himself up behind her anyway, his hands wandering over her torso, his fingers rolling one of her nipples. She moaned quietly, rubbing herself back along his erection but saying, "You're supposed to save that for Ethan."
"Plenty to go around," he murmured, biting softly at her shoulder as he guided her slickened hand between Ethan's legs. The sorcerer, who had pushed up on one elbow, fell back with a low groan, though he twisted a little so he could still watch them.
"Perfect," Ripper continued, tugging the lube out of her unresisting grip. He dropped a bit more on her shifting hand and she pushed another finger up inside of Ethan, watching his face with a little smile.
"So soft," she murmured, swaying down, her free hand circling his cock and stroking it slowly. "And hot." She opened her mouth, swirling her tongue slowly around him.
"Fuck," Ethan panted. "Yes, god."
As Olivia stretched herself, Ripper left one of his hands tugging her peaked nipple and caught the other on her hip, angling it a little. He pushed his erection between her legs, groaning as he sank into her. She pulled her head up, gasping, her hand tightening around the base of Ethan's cock
"That's for Ethan," she said as she rocked back, letting Ripper slide deeper inside of her.
"Don't stop," the sorcerer whimpered, his hips jerking a little.
"He doesn't seem to mind," said Ripper, drawing himself slowly out. "Do you, Eth?"
"No," he said quickly. "Fuck, Liv, please."
"Sorry," she murmured, instantly contrite. She took him in her mouth again, ducking her head in the increasing rhythm of her fingers, which Ripper more or less echoed behind her.
"Yes," Ethan hissed. "Oh god, yeah, oh - I'm almost - " He groaned, his hands clutching at the rug beneath him as his hips thrust upward. Olivia swallowed, curling her fingers a little to draw him out more. As he went slack she pulled out of him and let her forehead fall against his hip, each quick breath exhaled with a tiny moan.
Behind her Ripper's eyes unfocused and he gave one final push before she shuddered, her hands tightening on Ethan and her breath catching. The older boy's eyes rolled shut and a low groan was drawn from his throat. He finally let go of her hip, pulling back as she sank down. He fell next to her, panting, and for a few silent minutes they all grinned at the ceiling, catching their breaths.
* * *
The first time Ethan and Ripper spoke of their magic was shortly after Olivia had finished moving her belongings into the house. She was usually cheery and playful when drunk, so they'd been working very hard to catch her in the mood to be maudlin so they might wheedle some news of her ex-boyfriend from her. She hadn't spoken of him in nearly a month, but they had come to blame all of her strange, sad silences and bouts of irritation on him.
The evening they finally managed it they had decided to stay in. Ripper was draped in the armchair, his bare feet propped on the coffee table. He wore only an earring and a low-slung pair of jeans, which afforded a glimpse of the rise of one of his hipbones and the shadowed indent of his navel. Ethan sprawled on the couch, his head pillowed in Olivia's lap, and her fingers were stroking methodically through his hair. He lay there, looking entirely pleased and over-indulged, and she shook her head at him.
"What?" he asked.
"Hedonist."
"You're just noticing now?" Ripper's voice carried that edge of humor, the amusement that would surface suddenly and slyly in him.
"Typical man."
"Ouch," Ethan said, one of his eyes sliding open to fix questioningly on her face.
"Sorry," Olivia said immediately, her hand smoothing down his chest. She hesitated a moment and Ethan almost held his breath, hoping and wanting so badly to push. Finally she sighed, shaking her head and taking a long drink from her bottle. "I ran into Bruce again today."
Ripper shifted, his bare stomach tensing, his eyes hardening. Ethan's hand curled around Olivia's lower leg, moving soothingly.
"It's so stupid. I should just stop caring," she continued. "Or move away or something."
"No," Ripper said at once, sitting forward, fierce.
"Bugger him. He's not worth it," Ethan said more calmly.
"You're right." Olivia sighed. "It's just... We were together a year and a half, and he was cheating almost the whole time. I was some stupid virgin conquest. He didn't even have the decency to dump me when I told him I loved him. Had to overhear him bragging at the pub." Silence, for a moment, then Ripper shifted back in his chair again, breathing in.
"We should curse him," he said quietly. Ethan blinked, lifting his head to look at the other man. Olivia giggled.
"You're sweet," she said.
"We could make it so he can never get it up again," Ethan said, his head dropping into her lap again, his eyes glittering with mischief.
"Or he's always up but can never get off," said Ripper.
"He can only get it up around middle-aged men." Ethan grinned and Olivia shook her head.
"Silly," she said. Then, after a moment, "He can only get off when he's thinking about himself."
"Can you imagine calling out your own name?" Ethan smirked. "Or, even better, he can only get off thinking about you." At her arched eyebrow he offered a dazzling, guileless grin.
"That's quite clever," Ripper declared. "We'll do it."
"Thank you," Olivia said softly, mistaking their unwavering sincerity for merely symbolic support. She bent, slightly awkwardly, and kissed Ethan.
"I helped," Ripper pointed out when she'd finally straightened. She grinned, crooking a finger to gesture him forward.
"C'mere, then."
* * *
Thereafter it was simple to keep her safely in the dark concerning all matters of the occult. She misunderstood their bald truths as sarcasm, and they hid the majority of their incriminating volumes and spell ingredients to help support her delusion. Their friends were not as easily hidden, but they quickly caught onto the situation and fell dutifully in line with Ripper's wishes. Olivia was the unwitting queen of the household, Ethan and Ripper her enforcers and protectors.
Tuesday evenings had become a tradition: Thomas, Deirdre, Phillip, and Randall would come to the house, get fed, and then the seven would lounge around for the remainder of the night, listening to music or talking or getting high. When Olivia was out the other six would muck about with magic, whatever little spell had taken someone's fancy that week. Of late they had been growing restless, though. Ethan and Ripper had once been the boldest of them, pushing them just beyond their limits, insisting on wielding more and darker power. Now their universe had altered, and they were drifting under the sway of their new obsession.
Olivia finally pried herself from Ethan, batting his hands away after she'd stood. He managed to look both unrepentant and abused and she laughed, hurrying to pick her way through the loose circle of people before he sucked her back in.
"I'll be right back," she cast over her shoulder, nearly running into Thomas in her preoccupation. He grinned and offered one hand to steady her, the other clutching one of the thick, leatherbound volumes Ripper kept in his bedroom.
"Careful, Liv," he said, his palm smoothing down her bare arm, his soft grey eyes lingering on hers. She offered him a quick, apologetic smile, plucking his hand from her arm and giving it a squeeze.
"Stealing books again?" she asked.
"Yep," he confirmed. "This one's about how to summon sex demons. There's a brilliant one halfway through that induces orgies. I think we all ought to try it."
Olivia laughed, giving his arm a little pat before slipping around him and vanishing down the hall. Thomas half turned to watch her go, smirking.
"Not too perceptive, is she?" he asked, shifting his attention back to the main room. He had not noticed Ripper shoving up out of his chair, or Phillip's quick scramble to get out of the man's way, so he was surprised when a fist connected solidly to his face. He found himself on the floor, the book sprawled a few feet away from him and his nose beginning to drip blood. Ripper stood over him, his hands clenched, his eyes a livid green.
"Rip..." Only Ethan dared speak, though even he kept his voice low, cautious.
"Watch it," Ripper growled down at Thomas, towering above him for another moment before pivoting in disgust and returning to his chair. The air came back into the room, and as Randall moved to help Thomas get cleaned up, Deirdre collected the book and Phillip went to help Olivia gather more drinks.
By the time Olivia and Phillip returned everyone had been set to rights, though Ethan pouted outrageously when Ripper pulled their housemate into his lap. She settled there comfortably, her legs folded up and her fingers wandering through Ripper's hair after she'd settled his head against her shoulder.
"So what is the book really?" she asked Deirdre, who was paging through it with rapt interest.
"Hmm?" the other girl asked, glancing up. "Oh, it's, ah..."
"Navigation," Ethan interrupted quickly. "For boating and all that. It was my uncle's." It had been the most boring thing Ethan could think of on the spot, but Olivia brightened, her eyebrows lifting.
"You know Peter's really into boating," she said.
"Ooh, is he the blonde?" Randall asked, leaning forward in his seat. "With the shoulders?" At Olivia's laughing nod he sighed, tipping back dramatically. "When are you going to introduce us to some of your friends, Livvie?"
"You wouldn't get along with them," Ripper cut in casually.
"And what's that supposed to mean?" Olivia asked, shifting away from him a fraction.
"Nothing," he answered, taking a drink from the bottle she'd brought him. "They're just..."
Ethan cringed, holding his breath.
"You know, they're a bit posh. Pretentious," Ripper elaborated.
"Liv, where'd you put the cards?" Ethan asked in the brief silence that followed. "I can finally teach you poker, if you want?" Ripper had never touched Olivia, but the memory of the back of his fist cracking across Deirdre's jaw was burned into Ethan's mind. Olivia's eyes were bright with undisguised anger, though it faded a bit as her attention shifted to him.
"I'd like that," she said simply, pushing off Ripper's lap and moving over to the room's all-purpose desk to find the cards.
She didn't speak another word to him until the rest had shuffled off and he had gone to get ready for bed. She appeared in his doorway, her arms folding defensively over her chest.
"Sleep in the other room tonight," she said quietly.
"What?" Ripper straightened, staring at her. She met his eyes for the first time in hours, her own fierce and unwavering.
"This bed's bigger," she said.
"Yeah," he said, his eyebrows lifting. "That's why it's mine."
"Not tonight."
"Liv?" Ethan leaned far over the side of the couch, peering down the hall, a frown marring his forehead. She ignored him.
"I think you've filled your quota of being - "
"Liv?" Ethan wrestled to his feet, half jogging down the hall to interrupt her. He caught a glimpse of Ripper over her shoulder, the other man's body tense with anger, his mouth a hard line. He started toward the doorway and Olivia moved back, pushing Ethan gently behind her.
"Livvie," Ethan tried again. "It's really okay."
"Don't," Ripper snapped at him. He breezed past them, crossing the hall to the other room, not touching either of them. They were left in quivering silence after the door slammed shut.
"Why don't you finish locking up?" Olivia suggested after a moment, her voice soft. Ethan nodded, heading back down the hall. He flipped off the living room light and stood in the darkness for the count of twenty before returning to the bedroom.
He shed his clothing as he approached the bed, naked by the time he crawled beneath the covers to curl up against her. When his mouth touched the edge of her eye, the place that crinkled when she smiled, he found it already damp, salty. Easing a hand beneath the bulky fabric of her sweater, he rested his palm on her stomach.
"Liv," he whispered. "Livvie-luv, my darling duck."
She sniffed and blinked a few times, which sent a fresh cascade of tears down her face. Then she tilted her head, finally looking at him, and in the lack-light her eyes were huge and liquid, somewhere he could drown.
"It's all right," he continued, his voice still low, dreamy. "Everything's going to be fine." Her mouth trembled and he leaned over her a little, his hand easing up and to the side, cupping the curve of her ribcage. He kissed her gently, lingering for a long time before letting his tongue make a relaxed slide against hers. And then he pulled back, sucking a little on her lower lip. He worked slowly down the fine line of her jaw to her neck, making even the touch of his teeth soft.
"Shh," he breathed between kisses. "Don't cry, sweet."
"Sorry," she mumbled, lifting one of her hands to brush over her face.
"No, darling," he soothed, his tongue carving the hollow of her throat in a brief, wet touch. He shifted, his second hand joining the first beneath her sweater. The fingers were slightly cooler, and she moved obligingly as he dragged her shirt up, following it all the way down her arms to her fingertips, touching all the skin in between.
Olivia sank back down, her head falling against the soft heap of pillows. Her breath hitched and she reached up, the lightest touch at the base of his neck drawing him down into another kiss. That touch she followed down his bare back, feeling the gather and ease of his muscles as he moved again, his body hovering directly over hers. She reached between them to unfasten her jeans, and when she arched her hips up he broke his mouth from hers with a soft groan.
"Liv, please," he whispered. "Don't be sad, my beautiful dear. It's nothing."
She lifted her torso and he unclasped her bra, and after a moment all of the remaining clothing had been shuffled out of the bed. He buried his face for a moment between her breasts, then his head turned and his open mouth made a hot, damp trail up to her nipple. There was a hint of a hum in his throat, the beginning of something simple and familiar, though after a moment of trying to place it his hand pushing up her inner thigh distracted her. At her first gasp he lifted his head to grin at her.
When he spoke again his voice was different, still low but sweeter and lilting as he recited, "Ride a cock horse to Banbury Cross, to see a fine lady up on a white horse." That earned him an involuntary, watery laugh, and his grin spread as his hand between her thighs moved more certainly. "Rings on her fingers and bells on her toes," he continued. "She shall have music wherever she goes."
"I like that," she whispered, reaching down to touch his cheek. Her eyes rolled away from his briefly, her hips lifting a little and her mouth falling open. He turned his head, his tongue tracing up the underside of her middle finger before his lips closed briefly around it.
"Rings on her fingers," he repeated, "and bells on her toes." He moved, and the hand she'd rested on his hip tightened a little, feeling the sure pull of muscle. "She shall have music," he murmured, stretching up to kiss the underside of her chin, "wherever she goes." He rolled his hips and then he was easing into her, and she was hot and close and wet and he groaned.
Her breath was still uneven but quicker now, each exhalation carrying the tiniest sound of encouragement. She arched beneath him; he stared down at her, admiring the swan curve of her neck, drawn tight by her thrown-back head.
His hips were rocking gently, like a lullaby, though his voice took on a slight rasp, a quaver of extra air.
"Rings on her fingers," he whispered, "and bells on her toes. She shall have music wherever she goes." An incantation, an invocation, and she tasted sweet and vulnerable and yielding, and he just kept rocking and singing, lifting them both, easing them away.
Later, as he was just about to doze off, she spoke. The words were a warm breath across his chest, where her head lay.
"What's he running from?" she asked. He was instantly awake and she felt the change, slid the flat of her palm over the sudden tenseness of his stomach. "I see more than you realize."
"I know," he said quietly, though he didn't. "His parents wanted him to join the family practice. He lacked alternatives, couldn't say no loud enough. How did you..."
"Everyone's running from something," she said, her shoulder shifting in a shrug. "Plus that whole anger at the world thing. Big clue."
"How long?" he asked.
"I don't know," said Olivia. "The first few days, I guess. Does it matter?"
"All this time," he said, blinking and shifting to look down at her. She turned her face into his chest but he could feel the slow spread of her grin and he laughed. The whole time she had known, had sensed the danger, had been walking that fine tightrope with Ripper that Ethan believed he alone was conscious of. "You're insane, you know that?"
"Maybe," she allowed.
"And what about me?" he asked.
"What about you?"
"No grand schemes, then?" But Ethan's eyes had closed again, his hand moving in slow circles over her bare back.
"A lady needs her secrets."
* * *
The next afternoon Ripper cornered Ethan in the back yard, where he was drying woodruff and lavender in the sun while Olivia was at the market. Ethan had been waiting for the storm to break all day, knowing that their attempts the previous night to keep quiet would have enraged Ripper just as much as if they'd had hours of noisy, screaming sex.
By the time Olivia returned, Ethan couldn't remember under what pretext they had finally fought. In her haste to find bags of frozen food for his bruises she didn't press the issue, and it helped that Ripper had a fair bit of blood on his face from where Ethan had managed to clock him on the nose. She scolded them both but sent Ripper off to tend to himself. Ethan she had pushed down onto the couch, seating herself on the floor at his feet. Ripper rolled his eyes and went off to the bathroom.
"Oh Ethan," Olivia sighed, resting her head in his lap, her hand smoothing over his thigh. "Are you really all right?"
"It was just a bit of a scrape, luv," he said, letting the laughter into his voice. He shifted the bag of peas, though he kept it dutifully pushed against his face. The fingers that dropped to sift through her hair were cool from the contact, soothing after the heat of the afternoon.
"I really can't leave you two alone, can I?" she asked. Something in her tone made him hesitate, though he could not see her expression, could not pick out her intended meaning from the tangle of possibilities.
"No," he said, forcefully. "No, you can't."
* * *
Two days later Ripper steered Olivia neatly against the wall, holding her there with the playfulness in his green eyes and the casual nearness of his hips.
"How long are you going to keep this up, then?" he asked.
"I haven't decided," she evaded, her eyes shifting. His hand came up to the wall, cutting off her planned escape.
"That's not terribly fair," he said.
"You insulted my friends," she said, frowning.
"It was the truth," he countered.
"You should apologize."
One of his eyebrows rose at the suggestion, incredulous, but when she did not waver he softened the smallest margin. He leaned in, the kiss mild, lingering. When he chose to be gentle it was always with his mouth or hands, the tenderness surprising, something pure rising from beyond the well of rage and hate. That he could offer this but not say the words worried her, though, and she let a plaintive hint of it into her expression. She reached up to cup his face in her hands and for a moment he was open, his eyes unshadowed.
His sudden frown was the only indication of his changed mood before he moved, his fingers jerking shut around her wrists, pressing them up and pinning them to the wall above her head. His mouth came down hard on hers, his hips rolling into contact.
"Mine," he growled.
"Rip," she began.
"Mine." The interruption was immediate, followed by another searing, resolve-melting kiss.
"What are you, a cave man?" she muttered when she could draw breath again, her wrists twisting in his grasp.
"Guess you're the cave woman," he said, his eyes glinting.
"Don't you dare."
"You suggested it," he said, just before scooping her up and throwing her over his shoulder. She could do little but laugh as he carted her off to the bedroom.
* * *
That summer a few of Randall's other friends threw him an enormous birthday party in an estate house outside of London. Deirdre joked that half the city must have shown up before she vanished into the crowd in search of the birthday boy. Olivia began to believe it an hour into the festivities, after she'd left Ripper, Ethan, and Phillip engrossed in conversation. She allowed the very solicitous and rather drunk bartender to refill her drink, then wandered out back.
People were scattered all across the long lawn, and she could see shadows moving in the gardens beyond. A small group had discovered the large ornamental pond and were busy terrifying the fish with their attempts to swim. Olivia shook her head and turned to go back inside, only to find herself abruptly face-to-face with Bruce.
"Olivia!" he said, his eyes widening for a moment, the naked delight and hope almost painful.
"Bruce," she acknowledged, shifting back a step, her arms folding over her chest.
"Livvie, I hoped I would run into you," he said, moving forward, his fingers reaching for her elbow. "Can we talk?"
"I don't know that we have anything to talk about."
"Please?" His forehead creased and his eyes turned pitiful, over-exaggerated in his drunkenness. "Just walk with me for a few minutes, Liv."
"Fine," she sighed, pivoting and starting quickly down the lawn. He fell in eagerly next to her, steering her toward the gardens.
"I wanted to, ah, apologize. I've wanted to for a long time," he began. "But I just didn't know how. Here, why don't we..." He nodded toward a small, secluded grotto, and before she could protest he'd pushed her into the scant privacy. He didn't touch her again, instead turning his tortured expression fully on her.
"Liv, how I treated you...it was wrong, and I'm sorry. I'm sorry for the way things ended, and for how they were before they did," he said. "It's the worst mistake of my life. I - I can't stop thinking about you." He let out a quick, half-laughing breath, his fingers shoving back through his hair. "I really mean it. I think about you all the time, and I just wish things could be the way they were, before I fucked up."
"Bruce, I - "
"I love you, Liv," he interrupted, stepping forward to grasp both of her arms gently. "Please, can't we just give it another try? I've changed so much. I want to be the right man for you."
"Bruce," she said, more forcefully. She caught one of his hands, lifting it off of herself and giving it a little squeeze. "This is very sweet, and three months ago I would have fallen at your feet for this. But you are very drunk, and things are different for me now. We can try to be friends if you want, but I can never be anything more for you."
"No, Liv, Livvie," he protested, "I know what I'm saying, it's not the alcohol. Please, Liv, I need you."
"Don't," she whispered, touching his cheek, searching his damp eyes. "Just leave it, Bruce. It's over. Let's just get back, okay?"
"I can't stop thinking about you," he said again, catching her wrist, holding her loosely. "You don't understand."
"Liv?" Ethan's voice drawing nearer finally intruded on Olivia's consciousness and she frowned, shaking her head.
"Go back to the party," she said firmly. "The answer is no."
"Liv," he said, his voice rough. He reached for her and she pushed him away.
"Leave me alone, Bruce. It's better that way, trust me," she said, turning away. She made it two steps out of the grotto before running, literally, into Ethan. He steadied her, laughing.
"There you are," Ripper said. He stopped a few yards behind them, glancing around. "What were you - "
"Olivia, wait," Bruce called, stepping out behind her and reaching for her arm. Ethan's face darkened instantly and Olivia tried to turn him, to push him back up the path.
"Bruce," she hissed.
"What's he doing here?" Ethan demanded.
"We just ran into each other. He's staying here and I'm going to get something more to drink," Olivia said, looping her arm forcibly through Ripper's. "Why don't you come with me? We can dance."
"Yeah," Ripper said slowly, his eyes locked on Ethan's for a moment. "Yeah, let's do that."
In her relief at his response, Olivia didn't realize until they were halfway up the lawn that Ethan wasn't with them any more. She frowned, but when she tried to slow down Ripper tugged at her arm, yet moving quickly toward the house.
"We lost Ethan," she said.
"He knows where the house is," said Ripper. "He'll find us." He shuffled her inside, glaring a comparatively wide berth through the crowd and parking her near the bar.
"This music's shit," he declared. "Let me go see if I can get something better put on. Wait here?" He offered her a dazzling smile and kissed her quickly, before she could object. Then he was gone.
Before Olivia could decide exactly what to do about it, she was distracted by a low whistle and Thomas' smooth, laughing voice.
"If looks could kill," he commented, shifting around a snogging couple to stand next to her. She offered him a wan smile and he lifted his eyebrows. "What's wrong, luv?"
She gestured vaguely, inarticulately, and sighed. But when she drew breath to speak he stopped her with a finger against her mouth.
"Hold that thought for just one moment, my dear," he said, tugging the empty bottle from her hand. "Let me get you another drink and then you can tell me everything."
By the time Thomas returned with more drinks she had cooled down, and after he had led her through the crowds to find a marginally quiet place to talk she was halfway through the drink he'd brought her. She found her humor considerably better, even if her balance was rather worse.
"What is this?" she asked, peering into the cup. "It's really good."
"Dunno," he said with a huge grin. "Just whatever they had up there."
"Well, cheers," she said. He caught her around the waist and she leaned gratefully against him, blinking a few times.
"Careful," he admonished, taking the tipping cup from her hand. "Don't want to spill any. Why don't you finish this and then we can go dance."
"Yes," she said, accepting the cup back and finishing the drink in a few long swallows. Then he swept her off toward the main room, which was flickering with spinning lights and throbbing with music.
Thomas worked them near to the center of the crush of people, keeping her body pulled close. She looped her arms companionably around his neck, her eyes distant with concentration as she danced. He leaned closer, his mouth finally catching hers. For a moment she didn't respond, and then all was yielding and soft and he could taste the faint sweet edge of the herb he'd mixed in her drink. A spell-enhancing agent, it was harmless alone. Combined with the enchantment he had been sinking slowly into her, however, it promised to provide him a very satisfying evening.
Olivia's coherent thoughts had started a slow, dreamy swirl, lifting gradually out of her grasp. Those that still surfaced she let slip away as easily, finding herself removed from them. When his hands slid down off her back she did not mind, and when one slipped beneath her shirt she did not notice. They danced forever, the music a low thrum that communicated itself deep inside of her, his hot hands and pressing mouth necessary to keep her upright, to keep her from melting right out of his arms.
She could not quite process any of his words completely; she finally realized they had left the dancefloor after he had found an empty bedroom upstairs for them. He seemed displeased that it didn't lock, but most of the other rooms had been occupied, and his sudden urgency communicated itself even to her sluggish mind.
"Thomas," she said, her eyes narrowing deliberately. "What..."
"Shh," he soothed, the slight pressure of his hand on her shoulder guiding her down onto the bed. "Just relax, Liv."
"No, I..." She trailed off, her voice growing fainter. He smiled his triumph, again inspecting the complex fretwork of the spell melded into her mind as he stretched out above her. Satisfied, he turned his attention to her body, pushing his tongue back into her mouth as he wrestled her shirt off. She tried to twist out from beneath him but he caught her wrists easily in one hand, holding them above her head as the other pushed her skirt up.
Olivia was aware of the room only dimly; it pulsed in and out of focus with her breath, her mind clearing briefly as she drew air in but her hold slipping more with each exhale. He pressed between her legs and she squeezed her eyes shut, her slack fingers curling slowly, her concentration a bright point centered on just that, on freeing her wrists. But her thoughts twisted and she could not remember, could not push past the shimmering globe of his hold over her.
As Thomas dragged his hand down her side, a shiver of energy shattered his hastily-constructed locking spell, and by the time the door snapped back from where it struck the wall, Ripper and Ethan were both inside the room. They advanced on either side of the bed, Ripper shoving the interloper roughly off of Olivia.
"What the fuck is going on?" he demanded. Olivia's mouth opened but she could still not string words together, her tongue having lost all dexterity. He peered into her now-open eyes and swore, dropping to a seat on the edge of the bed and pulling her up into his arms. "It's okay, Livvie luv," he murmured. "We've got you." He twisted to glance at Ethan, the other man having applied a few good swings of his already-bloodied knuckles to Thomas.
"Ethan, take her out to the car and then meet me," he said quietly, his eyes fierce, nearly black in the lack-light of the room. Ethan nodded, letting Thomas drop to the floor, curiously subdued. He crawled over the bed, gathering Olivia close and righting her clothes.
"Are you sure we should leave her alone again?" he asked as he tugged her shirt into place, glancing to Ripper, who was circling the bed.
"Make sure the car's locked. She'll be okay for a bit," he said.
Ethan nodded again, lifting Olivia into his arms. She curled against him, her head on his shoulder and her hand catching the back of his neck, a weak attempt to hold herself there.
"It's okay, Liv, you're safe now," he whispered, pressing a kiss to her forehead before pulling the door open and starting quickly toward the stairs.
Ripper reached down to catch a handful of Thomas' hair, wrenching the other man to his feet.
"You are either deeply stupid or suicidal," he growled, bending Thomas' head awkwardly and forcing him toward the door. "Let's go."
Ethan ran into Deirdre at the base of the stairs, and she found herself feeling suddenly sober as she took in the sorcerer's grim, angry face and Olivia's dazed expression. She followed the pair out to their car, waiting to demand answers until they had left earshot of the majority of the party.
"Thomas," came Ethan's disgusted reply. "Some kind of spell. I need to go get Rip - can you sit with her until we get back?"
"Of course," she said immediately, crawling into the back seat, leaving Ethan to settle Olivia gently in the remaining space.
"Thanks, De," he said. "I'll be back soon."
By the time Ethan found Ripper, who had gone some way into the grove near the house, Thomas was already down. Catching sight of the sorcerer, Ripper grasped Thomas' arms obligingly, hauling him to his feet and taking the first turn at holding him up. Yet approaching, Ethan let his long, angry steps translate naturally into the smack of his fist over the offending man's face, not breaking pace for a moment.
"You are going to regret that you ever even considered doing something like that to her," he said evenly, pushing up his sleeves.
Deirdre had settled one arm around Olivia's shoulders by the time the men returned. The witch's eyes were closed, her hand cupping the back of the other girl's neck, but her face was grim. Ethan's sharp rap on the window broke her concentration and she turned to pull up the lock.
"Any luck?" he asked, motioning her out of the car. She shook her head, disentangling herself from Olivia and stepping back into the warm evening.
"I could see the surface, but..." She grimaced, shrugging. "I couldn't even begin to touch it. She might just have to ride it out."
Ripper pulled open the driver's door, vanishing into the car without a word.
"Thanks, De," Ethan muttered, stepping into the back seat.
"Wait," Deirdre said, catching the door before he could close it. "Where's Thomas?"
He searched her face for a moment, his own expression impassive.
"The woods," he finally answered.
"Alone?"
"Yes."
"Is he..."
"For now."
"Does anyone else know where he is?"
"No."
"Ethan, he could - "
"I don't care." He reached up, shoving her arm away before slamming the door shut. The engine coughed to life and she stepped back, the little car sliding out of its parking space and slinging toward the road.
By the time they pulled up in front of their house, Ethan was no longer able to elicit meaningful responses from Olivia. She was terrifyingly doe-eyed and compliant, though he could guess at the fear behind the strength of her grip on him. As they rushed into the house she turned her face into his shoulder, and when he tried to hand her to Ripper so he could go rifle through the spell books she would not give up her hold.
"Liv, sweet," Ethan coaxed, "you're safe now, you can let go."
"It's okay, I can do it," Ripper said, brushing Olivia's hair back, reassuring himself for a moment before he strode off to the bedroom. They didn't dare spread out the whole array of volumes and totems for fear that they might be too successful and she would snap suddenly back into full awareness, so while Ethan held and fussed over her on the couch, Ripper tore through the books in his bedroom.
"Doesn't look good, Eth," he said when he returned to the main room. His hair was tousled, sticking out at angles from where he'd raked his fingers repeatedly through it. Ethan frowned, nodding to the empty seat at his side.
"There wasn't anything?" he asked as Ripper dropped down next to him.
"Not much," the older boy said, tipping Olivia's face gently to peer into her eyes. "I have a few ideas, if you could just..."
"Of course," Ethan said, shifting her a little more upright against him. Ripper cupped one hand behind her neck, his eyes locking with hers. Ethan sat patiently, trying to ignore the building tension of Ripper's will coming up against Thomas' spell. After a minute Ethan winced, but before he could make a move toward Ripper the other man fell back with a muted curse. Olivia cringed and Ripper swore again, rolling off the couch.
"Her nose," he said, rushing off to the kitchen. Ethan blinked, confused until he glanced down at her.
"Fuck," he muttered, cupping his hand to catch the blood. "Oh Livvie," he breathed as he tucked her head beneath his chin. "What did we get you into?"
"Here," Ripper said as he returned, brandishing a damp towel. "Guess I pushed a little too hard. I thought I had it." He sat again, pressing the towel to her nose and collecting her into his lap so Ethan could wash up. Instead the younger man sat for a moment, staring at her.
"I think we just ride it out," he said finally, sighing. "It would take longer to unravel it."
"Go clean up," Ripper suggested, shifting Olivia in his arms so he could stand with her and keep the towel pressed to her face. He went to the bedroom, picking his careful way over the books he'd left scattered across the floor. He seated her on the bed, holding her upright for a moment until he realized it unnecessary, then crouching at her feet and lifting her hand to the towel.
"Liv, baby, hold this for me," he said, his hand pulling back from hers very slowly, ready to resume contact. When he was satisfied she was secure he gathered the books, stacking them sideways on the shelves in his haste. Then he rummaged through her side of the closet, pulling out one of the worn shirts she liked to wear to bed. She had stolen it from him, sending it through the dryer a few times and rolling the sleeves to make it fit better. He returned to the bed, kneeling in front of her.
"Okay, luv, let's put this on now," he said. Her glassy eyes closed, tears slipping from their corners. He leaned forward, kissing her bare knee before straightening to work her clothes off.
Ethan appeared halfway through the process, sitting next to Olivia and pulling the towel slowly away from her face. He watched closely, and when no fresh blood appeared he wiped her skin clean, one hand lying along her cheek and the other manipulating the back of the towel quickly but gently.
"I'll finish that," Ethan offered when the blood was gone, handing the towel to Ripper and reaching for the buttons on Olivia's nightshirt. At the other man's militant look he snorted, one of his eyebrows lifting. "You're a mess," he said bluntly. "It's going to be a few hours, so you might as well go now."
Ripper glanced down at his hands, which were smudged with blood - most of it Thomas', a bit his own and Bruce's. He laughed once, then pushed to his feet and vanished back into the hallway.
"Bed time," Ethan said quietly, his attention returning to Olivia. He took her face in his hands, his thumbs swiping her tears away as he kissed her forehead. "You'll feel better in the morning, luv. Just try to sleep." He peeled back the covers and helped her crawl underneath, situating her pillow beneath her before stripping down to his boxers and joining her.
Ripper flicked off the light when he returned, shedding his trousers and shirt as he crossed the room. He crept into the bed on Olivia's free side, shuffling himself until both he and Ethan could hold her properly between them. He closed his eyes, but sleep was far off. He kept seeing instead the way Thomas' face crumpled when the blows impacted the soft flesh of his stomach, feeling the satisfying crack of ribs giving way.
* * *
A week later Thomas was released from hospital, and Deirdre engineered an opportunity for him to apologize in the more or less neutral ground of her flat. She distracted Ethan and Ripper with some new books she'd acquired, sending them off to a back room while she and Olivia poured over cookbooks. The men had made a rash promise to cook - something real, not take-away or microwaveable - and Deirdre and Olivia were committed to making the most of it.
Deirdre glanced at the clock again and Olivia lifted her eyebrows in question.
"Are you waiting for something?" she asked, leaning back against the couch and resting the book she'd been paging through on the floor beside her.
"Well, actually," Deirdre began, glancing guiltily toward the hallway. "Thomas wanted to apologize to you. You know, in person, but without getting himself put back in hospital." At Olivia's expression the other girl lifted her hands, continuing hastily. "If you don't want to see him that's fine, I'll tell him to go away, but I just thought... I mean...we can't just leave it, and..."
Olivia nodded slowly, frowning and plucking the book up again.
"I'll see him," she decided. "What time?"
"Ten minutes or so."
That settled, they both studiously ignored the clock, engrossing themselves instead in a discussion of just how disastrous the attempt to make glazed duck would be. At the soft knock, Deirdre jumped up and hurried to the door. Olivia stacked the cookbooks, rising to her feet more slowly.
"Thomas," Deirdre greeted the man at the door in an undertone. "Wow, you look...really crappy." She stepped aside and he moved in only as far as necessary for Deirdre to close the door. He walked cautiously, pain shadowing his eyes, his face a glorious mess of bruises. The swelling in his nose had gone down, but it was a slightly different shape, and hidden by the bandage on his forehead was a row of stitches.
Olivia regarded him in silence, faintly surprised to find she didn't feel sorry for him, not really. He looked at her for only a moment before his eyes dropped, his face flushing with shame.
"Olivia," he began. His voice was small and dry and he stopped to clear his throat. "I wanted to apologize for, uh, what I did on Saturday. I really wasn't thinking straight and it will never happen again, I swear."
Olivia had moved forward and now she took a deep breath, nodding. At her side her fingers curled into a fist. Before she could question the gesture, she hauled back and punched him in the face.
The echoing yelps of surprise and pain brought Ethan and Ripper rushing from the other room. Thomas had slapped both hands over his tender nose, tears stinging his eyes, and Olivia was shaking out her hand. Deirdre was caught between distress and amusement, though the latter won out when Ethan and Ripper moved toward Olivia, easing the sudden tension in the room.
"God, that hurt," Olivia said, allowing Ethan to cover her hand in little kisses while Ripper tucked her beneath one of his arms. "How do you do that all the time?"
"You two are like mother hens," Deirdre said, laughing as she turned to Thomas. "Here, let me see." She pried his hands forcibly away from his nose, inspecting it. After a moment she gave it an experimental tap, which earned her a curse and a very black look from Thomas.
"Oh, calm down," she said. "It looks fine." She rolled her eyes at his expression, prodding him toward the kitchen. "I'll get you some ice, then."
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