Chapter Text
This story branches off during ‘Last Call' - a short story included in the Side Jobs Anthology. Harry is investigating someone tampering with Mac’s beer, and brings some to his lab, which is where the excerpt I'm including in this story starts. The excerpt ends right before the scene leave Harry's lab.
I took the box straight down the stepladder to my lab, calling, “Hi, Molly,” as I went down. Molly, my apprentice, sat at her little desk, working on a pair of potions. She had maybe five square feet of space to work with in my cluttered lab, but she managed to keep the potions clean and neat, and still had room left over for her Latin textbook, her notebook, and a can of Pepsi, the heathen.
Molly’s hair was kryptonite green today, with silver tips, and she was wearing cutoff jeans and a tight blue T-shirt with a Superman logo on the front. She was a knockout.
“Hiya, Harry,” she said absently.
“Outfit’s a little cold for March, isn’t it?”
“If it were, you’d be staring at my chest a lot harder,” she said, smirking a little. She glanced up, and it bloomed into a full smile. “Hey, beer!”
“You’re young and innocent,” I said firmly, setting the box down on a shelf. “No beer for you.”
“You’re living in denial,” she replied, and rose to pick up a bottle. Of course she did. I’d told her not to. I watched her carefully.
The kid’s my apprentice, but she’s got a knack for the finer aspects of magic. She’d be in real trouble if she had to blast her way out of a situation, but when it comes to the cobweb-fine enchantments, she’s a couple of lengths ahead of me and pulling away fast—and I figured this had to be subtle work.
She frowned almost the second she touched the bottle.
“That’s . . . odd.” She gave me a questioning look, and I gestured at the box. She ran her fingertips over each bottle in turn. “There’s energy there. What is it, Harry?”
I had a good idea of what the beer had done to its drinkers—but it just didn’t make sense. I wasn’t about to tell her that, though. It would be very anti-Obi-Wan of me.
“You tell me,” I said, smiling slightly.
She narrowed her eyes at me and turned back to her potions, muttering over them for a few moments, and then easing them down to a low simmer. She came back to the bottles and opened one, sniffing at it and frowning some more.
“No taste testing,” I told her. “It isn’t pretty.”
“I wouldn’t think so,” she replied in the same tone she’d used while working on her Latin. “It’s laced with . . . some kind of contagion focus, I think.”
I nodded. She was talking about magical contagion, not the medical kind. A contagion focus was something that formed a link between a smaller amount of its mass after it had been separated from the main body. A practitioner could use it to send magic into the main body, and by extension into all the smaller foci, even if they weren’t in the same physical place. It was sort of like planting a transmitter on someone’s car so that you could send a missile at it later.
“Can you tell what kind of working it’s been set up to support?” I asked her.
She frowned. She had a pretty frown.
“Give me a minute.”
“Ticktock,” I said.
She waved a hand at me without looking up. I folded my arms and waited. I gave her tests like this one all the time—and there was always a time limit. In my experience, the solutions you need the most badly are always time-critical. I’m trying to train the grasshopper for the real world. Here was one of her first real-world problems, but she didn’t have to know that. So long as she thought it was just one more test, she’d tear into it without hesitation. I saw no reason to rattle her confidence.
She muttered to herself. She poured some of the beer out into the beaker and held it up to the light from a specially prepared candle. She scrawled power calculations on a notebook.
And twenty minutes later, she said, “Hah. Tricky, but not tricky enough.”
“Oh?” I said.
“No need to be coy, boss,” she said. “The contagion looks like a simple compulsion meant to make the victim drink more, but it’s really a psychic conduit.”
I leaned forward. “Seriously?”
Molly stared blankly at me for a moment. Then she blinked and said, “You didn’t know?”
“I found the compulsion, but it was masking anything else that had been laid on the beer.”
I picked up the half-empty bottle and shook my head. “I brought it here because you’ve got a better touch for this kind of thing than I do. It would have taken me hours to puzzle it out. Good work.”
“But . . . you didn’t tell me this was for real.” She shook her head dazedly. “Harry, what if I hadn’t found it? What if I’d been wrong?”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself, grasshopper,” I said, “You still might be wrong.”
She chuckled and shook her head before she went back to her desk and, Stars and Stones, crouched down.
Her Superman shirt was small and tight. Her shorts were low and tighter. Combined they did very little to keep her underwear in place. Molly had evidently been planning ahead, because the thong revealed by her position matched the Kryptonite Green of her hair exactly. I must have made some sort of noise because Molly twisted to look back at me with a wide grin.
“Problem Boss?”
The air in the lab was dry, and that's the only reason I had to swallow twice before answering.
“No.” My voice was still a little raspy. “Do you always match your underwear to your hair?” My libido had used my distraction to assume control of my mouth, and I immediately directed my brain to begin a counteroffensive.
Molly, oblivious to the martial prowess of my glands, looked inordinately pleased.
“Maybe.” She answered with a smile that gave the advantage to my hormones. “Anytime you want to check, just let me know.”
I shook myself and turned away lamely, hearing a sigh from Molly before she finished packing her bag and rose. When I was sure she was headed for the ladder again I made one brief adjustment before turning. Unfortunately my timing was off and I took a direct shot from Molly's nipples, clearly outlined, barbell piercings and all through her t-shirt.
Her earlier comments about the temperature of the lab flooded back to me and I realized she might be even more affected by the exchange than I was. But being a Wise and Virtuous Wizard, I reigned in my baser desires and waited stoically for Molly to reach the trap door to my apartment.
That I got the best seat in the house for the ‘Molly sauntering across the lab and up the stairs’ show had nothing to do with it. Trust me. I'm virtuous.
When I made it back upstairs I found Molly doing one of the sexiest things a woman can do for a man.
“Do you want ham or turkey?” She called from the cramped corner that passed as my kitchen.
“Ham.” I said, obviously. “And cheddar. And…”
Molly tutted at me in an eerie impression of her Mother, and I didn't bother with any more instructions. Being a dutiful apprentice, Molly had decided I would be more miserable. Or healthy, which is the same thing as far as a diet is concerned.
When we were inevitably dug into our multi grain with lots of lettuce and not enough mayo sandwiches, I grunted what was meant to be appreciation and earned a chuckle from Molly. I was sipping water, ew, when she hit me again.
“I have a whole costume you know.” Her entire demeanor screamed ‘casual’, so my guard was obviously up.
“Whaf’s tha now?” I may have sprayed some food.
“I have a whole Supergirl costume.” She clarified.
It was hard, but I swallowed and didn't take another bite yet.
“Cool.” I said in what I'm sure was a very nonchalant tone. “Which one?”
Her face lit up and I was reminded that Molly was every bit the comic book geek I was.
“The Michael Turner issues!” She answered brightly while carefully watching my reaction. “You know, the cropped top, miniskirt, red boots and cape?”
Hooboy, did I know. And she knew I knew. And if she didn't, the fact that my heart probably skipped a beat would tell her everything she wanted to know.
Sometimes I hated being so virtuous.
The case closed, life went on as usual. Being a Wizard, Warden, PI, and having an apprentice made it go on even faster. So it shouldn't have surprised me that I nearly missed Halloween.
At the last minute when I was at Mac’s picking up a case of Brown, now that he'd finally been able to restock, I saw the carved pumpkins he had out. After I got over my jealousy at his carving skill I made a detour for some candy, even though I never got all that many Trick or Treaters.
When I got back to my apartment I went through the usual rituals of obligation to neatness and sanitation before selecting a novel I wouldn't mind having interrupted a hundred times. A well worn Star Wars novel would do. I'd just about finished my first, hard-earned, well-deserved beer when the Trick or Treaters showed up. And I most certainly did not flinch at the vampire costume.
I needed another beer though.
I'd gone through a few and the kiddies had all but tapered off when I got another knock.
“Trick or Treat!”
There stood Molly, fists on her hips in classic Supergirl pose, her costume absolutely accurate and completely devastating. The long sleeved top covered her in skin-tight blue all the way to the backs of her hands, but was cut off just below her breasts. The matching blue skirt sat low on her hips and was obscenely short, leaving an awe-inspiring amount of strong, shapely legs bare until covered by her knee high red boots. The iconic red cape fell to her waist and the entire costume was trimmed in gold.
Molly had also (I assumed for accuracy) gone with Golden blonde hair, Saphire blue eyes, and a distinct lack of her normal tattoos. It was a subtle working of illusion, and I was impressed.
“Nice illusion.” I finally answered, throwing a Tootsie pop at her face which was deftly caught. I saw a flash of irritation that she quickly shoved down.
“Want to watch me suck on something while I'm all dressed up?” She asked in a sinful tone that made it nearly impossible to keep my cool. The effect was somewhat spoiled by a cute giggle a second later, but also made the whole presentation even more alluring.
“Down girl.” I said out of habit a second too late.
Look, men are a weird ball of contradictions, especially when it comes to what we find attractive versus what we know we're not supposed to admit we're attracted to.
Perving on my much younger apprentice in her costume was definitely not something I was supposed to do. But when she brushed by me, unnecessarily close, to enter my apartment there was nothing short of blinding myself I could have done to not stare.
Don't judge me. Molly's built like a fictional character and was wearing a skirt that was maybe half an inch longer than decency required, standing. And the minx knew how to walk.
I got the impression she walked little bouncier than normal knowing full well where my eyes were. When I was finally able to tear them away it was to find her looking over her shoulder at me with a knowing grin. Her spin to face me was fast enough for the skirt to flare out enticingly, and I knew without a doubt she was having fun.
“What do you think? Pretty accurate, right?”
I nodded easily, like my eyes hadn't burned holes in the comic book she was now perfectly replicating.
“Very accurate.” I agreed.
What was shaping up to be a spectacularly awkward silence was salvaged by a knock at the door. Molly's face lit up.
“Ooo, let me!”
She bounced back by me on the way to the door, and her skirt flipped up enough in the back for me to catch a glimpse of gloriously bare flesh. Molly yanked open the door, a superhuman feat itself, and greeted the fun-sized pretend-monsters with a grin.
“Trick or Treat!”
“Wow, you guys look terrifying, I love it!”
The kids ate up her praise while their father stared with a slack-jawed look of wonder. Molly bent over, legs straight and knees together in perfect Supergirl style, looking back to wink when she caught me staring again.
Blasted glands were relentless.
After the kids and, eventually, the Dad left, Molly muscled the door closed and turned to me with an excited smile.
“I almost forgot the best part!”
Molly sprung to stand with her feet shoulder-width apart, fists on her hips and elbows out wide. Her head turned to stare off into the middle distance and, I kid you not, her hair, cape, and skirt all fluttered as if she were hovering in a steady wind.
Her lips curled up when she caught my expression, but to be fair it was a very clever bit of magic. And, you know, wow.
But our magic is tied to our emotions, and Molly’s control wasn't all there yet. The wind whipped for a second and her hair streamed while her cape cracked out behind her. And I suddenly knew that Molly's underwear, what little of it there was anyway, matched the red of her cape perfectly.
She blushed as the wind died, and I got the impression it was more due to the faltering of the spell than anything I'd seen.
“Good effort Marilyn.” I couldn't resist. “But I think it needs a little fine tuning.”
She quickly forgot her embarrassment and shot me a dirty look.
“No.” She argued firmly. “I've been practicing this and that's the first time it's ever done that .”
“You've been practicing a spell to make your costume flutter.” I stated flatly.
“Why not? It's good control and it's fun.”
I fought the urge to press my hands into my eyes.
“And when, exactly, did you think you were going to use it?”
“You're not the only guy in the World, Harry.” Her voice was prim and I knew I was walking a fine line. “And this isn't the only short skirt I own. Maybe I was thinking about using it on a breezy day outside when I saw a good-looking guy.”
I winced at the thought of her with another man, but that was a topic we always treated as radioactive. Judging from the aggressive set of her chin and shoulders, we were about to wade in.
“Well if that's how you feel about me being with anyone else than you should just t…”
I cut her off.
“You know why we can't grasshopper.”
“No! I don't!” She shouted back. Her finger was pointed at me like a loaded weapon and she strode towards me until it thudded against my chest. “I know why you think we can't, and you're wrong!”
God, she was beautiful.
One of the few mortal women I wouldn't tower over, her blue eyes blazed above flushed cheeks. She was breathing hard which was its own kind of distracting, and it was getting harder and harder…. to remember my reasons for not allowing this.
“I'm a grown woman, Harry.” Her voice was quieter, and all the more intense for it. “I know what I want, and why.”
She dropped her hand without looking away.
“Just because I've fantasized about you for longer than you have about me doesn't mean it can never happen for real.”
It was my turn to blush, and her smile turned a little smug.
“I know you want me Harry. I don't even need to be sensitive to feel the way you think about me sometimes.”
“Molly, that's not…”
“You've never had a fantasy I wouldn't beg you to actually do.” She talked over me and the desire in her voice cut right through me. “Good Lord Harry, my fantasies about you would probably scare you away.”
I swallowed thickly, suddenly wishing I'd had a few less of Mac’s brew before she'd gotten there, because she was looking awfully appealing for all the wrong reasons.
And the grasshopper picked up on it, and went for the kill.
“Do you want me to get on my knees?” Her eyes were darker than I'd ever seen when she glanced down at my waist and licked her lips. “You don't need to do anything Harry. I've gotten myself off to the thought of sucking your dick more times than I can count.”
Stars and Stones, I knew I should stop her, but she sounded so damn good .
“Or maybe you want to take me right here on the floor? Make me spread my legs so you can pound yourself into me?”
Her voice shook but her eyes were direct. Eager.
“Or you could bend me over the arm of the couch and really fuck me.” Her nipples were hard under the tight top and she was breathing faster with excitement. “I've got a special toy I use when I get on my hands and knees so I can fantasize you're taking me from behind.” Her whole body shivered delightfully. “Sometimes the thought of you spanking me and pulling my hair makes me scream into the pillow because I come so hard…”
I'm not a perfect man. Sometimes I'm not even a very good one. And on this occasion, I broke.
Molly smiled in the instant before I hauled her towards me and crushed our lips together, one hand on the back of her neck and the other on her hip. She may have mumbled “Finally!” against my lips but kissed me back enthusiastically, pressing forward to grind herself on my erection. I don't know who moved first, but we were stumbling our way to my battered old couch until I was falling to sit on it with Molly straddling my legs.
She sat back on my knees and ripped at my belt and pants, a look of intensity I usually only saw in spellwork on her face. I used her distraction to run my hands up her ribs and drag my thumbs across her nipples. She growled in frustration and finally got everything undone, rising to yank my pants and boxers down with a growl. Her head rolled back when I experimented with pinching her nipples through her shirt and she let out a groan that made me twitch. Her hands sought out my length and she looked at me with such desperate need after finding it that I seriously worried about my survival.
She kissed me again and shifted over me, one hand under her skirt and one pulling me towards her. My tip brushed against her and I inhaled sharply at her soaking wet heat. But that was nothing compared to her sinking down onto me with a truly maddening sound. Her face was towards the ceiling and she arched her back to roll her hips and engulf me fully, her arms draped over my shoulders.
Her head rolled on her neck and she met my eyes with an open mouthed look of wonder when she started to bounce in my lap, riding me with long strokes. Wet slapping sounds quickly filled the apartment as she picked up speed and I struggled to maintain control. I steeled myself and resolved to make her finish first, my hand moving under her flapping skirt so I could put my thumb on her clit.
Molly made an absolutely filthy noise that I liked way too much, and I started circling her hard nub with my thumb. She nodded frantically, her eyes shut and her hair going everywhere, a stream of moans and cries tempting me to finish too soon.
“Holy shit Harry, I'm going to come!” She sounded amazed and looked and sounded even more amazing. She bit her lip as her body hammered down onto me, her breasts bouncing magnificently while her cape fluttered. My thumb was a blur and a second later she her moans reached a fever pitch and threatened to raise the dead. Or at least the men. “Fuck, Harry! I'm coming! Oh my God!”
She bucked and seized as her orgasm tore through her, the sights and sounds way more than I could take. With a groan I emptied myself inside of her, meeting her in a messy kiss while she made more satisfied noises. Finally, we started to cool and she simply cuddled against me, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and looking utterly content.
“Don't even think it.” She warned in a tired voice a minute later when my brain started to punish me.
I smiled and held her tighter, happy to listen for at least a night.