Yeah... I know it wasn't good, per say. I just sat down and wrote something. That's kind of in the spirit of these kindsa stories. As you said, we really need more stories.

If you've got any challenges, I'll happily reply to them, too.

Challenge: Winter Knight!Dresden and Maeve in an AU post-Cold Days go on a mission of some sort somewhere tropical.

I really can't think of something better right now. I've posted a few challenges previously, so I guess u can scroll through the others if this one doesn't spark any ideas.

 

It certainly wasn't bad by any stretch.

Challenge: The knock at my door was expected, but the sunny warmth that flooded in with the woman certainly wasn't. AU Summer Knight, Titania shows up instead of Mab, but is that the only change? Up to you.
Length: 1000-3000+.

And thanks for the challenge, I'm working on it and should have it posted by tomorrow.

 

Pretty sure homely means ugly.

That aside... I like the idea and I'll see if I can think of something. Listening through Changes atm and trying to think of a Dresden/Molly story that would fit somewhere in between the pages.

 

This one turned out quite... large. Almost a moderate one-shot rather than a simple challenge. It also dips into a bit of NSFW territory early on, so keep that in mind if browsing the thread from work.

My first real mission acting as Mab's Mortal Champion and Servant of Idle Whims, her Plaything Eternal and Hit-wizard Extraordinaire, the Envoy and Executioner of Winter's Will - well, you get the point. Her Winter Knight, to sum up all the lesser titles in one blanket clause - my first true dictation by the Winter Monarch and Queen of Air and Darkness arrived only days after putting a rather absolute cold-stop to the madness happening upon Demonreach.

Maeve, the Winter Lady, dropped out of a rift in the Nevernever shortly before sunrise and landed squarely in my lap on the disheveled mattress I had installed inside of the cottage only the night before.

I hadn't been asleep when it happened - my thoughts were still haunted by Lily's tragic death, and being situated so closely to the scene of the crime left me with little shivers dancing up and down my spine whenever I closed my eyes to try. I kept seeing her righteously fury expression turning into furrowed confusion; crumbling into open-mouthed and widened-eye shock as the first dollop of blood spilled past her pale lips and soaked into the front of her shredded and burnt sundress; and finally the abject fear, the naked terror that ravaged her features and left them etched forever in a silent gasp.

Pain ate away at my heart for failing to save her in time. For cutting her down with nails that angled more akin to two-inch claws, my wrist settled halfway through her stomach and grasping her spine, the full sadistic glee spread over my face as the Winter Knight mantle set my blood afire and granted me strength, speed, and the rapid agility needed to leap across the ten foot gap separating the Ladies of Summer and Winter from their respective Knights.

Lily's too-warm blood and burning guts lay across my hands, and before I could do anything about finishing the job with the other Nemesis-influenced Sidhe beside me, Mab had struck instead and spirited Maeve away in the split-second of shock and satisfaction apparent on the last Lady's face.

After that, it had all been a matter of clean up. Handing the fiery corpse in my arms to the grieving Summer Knight, and looking away from the anguish in his eyes and the unspoken promise of retribution therein; sending Karrin, Thomas, and the rest of my back-up squad away; and trying to come to grips with everything I had been through recently, again.

Thomas had at least dragged the beaten and battered mattress off of the Water-beetle when I told them I was staying behind on the Whatsup Dock.

What little of my mind that wasn't preoccupied with killing both Summer Ladies inside of a decade turned over Demonreach itself, and the un-and-godly horrors imprisoned however-deep beneath my feet. I only spared Mab and my position fleeting moments over the following hours into days.

So no, I wasn't asleep when Maeve's naked, artfully-restrained and too lithe form landed on me in a rush of downy snow and sleeting hail, a snowstorm contained inside of a breath of air. The rift closed as soon as the last hint of bleached dreadlock cleared the opening, pitching her thighs-first against me.

I snapped upright with a hint of that mantle-speed in reaction to what I assumed to be a threat, only to check the motion half-way through unleashing a salvo of Forzare-leaden pain when she landed and knocked us both flat.

The back of my head rocked against the underlying stone beneath the thin mattress in the next moment, cutting off the intent and the strength behind the spell. I blinked my eyes back open again in mild disorientation and simmering anger when I finally processed the squirming mass above me. I felt a bit of vindication, however, as I was pretty certain she was only giving herself some nasty rope-burns in places where you don't want rope-burns.

I was also certain that it was indeed Maeve, and the one who had instigated my prior actions again Lily. Unlike the last time we had been so near to touch, I felt nothing stir inside my soul from the mantle, not so much as a whisper of the wicked desires I had barely managed to hold at bay before.

What I wanted the most was to throttle the mad tart, and for a brief moment, I wondered if that might very well be the reason Mab had thrown her daughter-the-betrayer against me. Hadn't she intended Maeve's execution if need be just a week earlier? Had she finally decided no more could be taken?

As Maeve struggled upright, I saw that the answer was a disappointing 'No.' given the note tacked to her chest by the barbell piercings. The script was etched in white-blue ink, the lines harsh and jagged, as if the hand responsible had used a pickaxe and chisel rather than a pen.

When I reached out to grasp the bottom of the letter so her constant movement wouldn't interfere with reading, a shock of ice-cold radiated into my very bones - perhaps my prior assumption hadn't been far off.

"No wonder you won't s-settle down," I said in a hard-neutral tone, keeping the chattering of my teeth down to only one mispronounced word as I glanced up at her face. She glared back at me with all the vitriol of a woman scorned and eager for vengeance, squirming not-unpleasantly against my lap.

I turned back to the note and read quickly, the better to get her off - of me, rather - and felt incredulousness replace most of my emotions by the time I finished.

To summarize; Mab had purified her daughter again, as she had my godmother. There was nothing else written down, no hidden P.S. requesting termination, punishment, or otherwise - and I turned the sheet of thin ice up to check the back, noting the quiet noise Maeve made in the back of her throat the whole while - leaving me just as stumped as before I had read it.

With reluctance I dipped a finger into the edges of her plush, pale-blue lips and slid along the gag keeping her quiet, pulling it down to her chin after a moment or two amidst a pool of warm saliva.

My first response, watching it drizzle across her tits, was "Didn't your mother ever teach you to swallow?"

Closely behind the snark I felt a tinge of distant desire down south. Honestly, a bound and naked woman shifting all over you is going to get some attention sooner or later, Sidhe be damned, and it doesn't take the predator-nature of the Winter Knight mantle to get that kind of rise out of a normal, hot-blooded man.

"Okay, you've had your fun. What the hell are you doing here, Maeve?"

Then again, I guess I don't count myself among normal, hot-blooded men anymore. I gripped her around the shoulders and pushed her up against the wall, swinging myself out from underneath her, and stood up to retrieve my duster from the other corner of the cramped room.

It helped, now that I couldn't see her any longer, to remember why I wanted nothing to do with the Winter Lady.

"Release me, wizard." She panted like a cat in heat as she said it, and I paused a moment in sliding one arm through the matching sleeve, then shook my head once and finished. When I turned around she was wearing a pleased smirk, a splaying of the teeth.

I pointed my force rings at her again. "You have until the count of three to start talking, Maeve. If you don't..." I trailed off, giving it a bit of thought.

What was one more fae's death given all the slaughter I had participated in so far? What was her death given how much evil she had spread since Nemesis nestled into her heart - or hell, even before that? Surely Lloyd Slate had contributed a torture or twenty at her behest.

She seemed to read the way of my thoughts within my expression, as she spoke. Killing two Ladies seems to do that for a guy. "It is my punishment to oversee your protection within the Summer lands, wizard. We venture to the mortal island of Hawai'i to settle a debt between the mothers."

I blinked. "Did you just say 'the Mothers'?" I repeated back at her.

Maeve managed to make that smirk slant in ways that forced me to meet her gaze again. She was also still drooling slightly, both of us well aware of where it was going.

"Nay, wizard. The mothers, the Queens. You know of whom I speak."

That made me blanch in a whole different way from what I had before. She meant Titania and Mab. I was about as eager to enter the land where Titania was strongest as I was to embrace Snaggletooth the shark-faced Outsider in holy matrimony.

I even opened my mouth to tell Maeve to go screw herself, but two things stopped the words dead in my throat; the first, being that she was already well on the way to that. The second, being that I felt the mantle of the Winter Knight rattle and withdraw as I tried to deny my Queen's orders.

That, more than anything, convinced me of the authenticity of the situation. I gasped and dropped down to my knees and one hand, my head dipping to the floor as my spine about collapsed. The moment I was essentially bowing to the Winter Lady, however, the mantle returned again. My back re-set itself and nerves and tendons began to function as they were meant to.

Maeve abruptly panted and let out a shuddering gasp, and I had the joy of watching her climax from point-blank range from the sensation of power she wielded over me for that moment.

Disgust welled up and crushed down the traces of lust I had felt before. If I had to deal with this, I sure as hell wasn't going to enjoy it.

I shrugged out of my duster and cut the enchanted rope about her body with a choice spell or two, then shoved the leather on over her body. "Shut up and get up."

I snagged my ruby-encrusted pentacle amulet and staff from where I had left them and marched out of the cottage.

DsdnDsdnDsdn

I only had to consult my mother's old ruby, the store of her knowledge regarding the numerous Ways throughout the Nevernever, to figure out the route we would have to take. I knew that going through from the actual island itself, however, was tantamount to spiritual-suicide.

I waited until Maeve had finally emerged some ten minutes later, the rope tied in varying ways around my duster to give her both a semblance of modesty and, at the same time, an emphasis of what she had, before I re-entered the cottage and began feeling out for the residue of the forced-Way that Mab had created just to get her daughter here.

Such constructs were not quick, not cheap, and not easily ignored. They wouldn't last a sunrise on a place as saturated as Demonreach, and even when I managed to detect where it was, I was still surprised that a faint tether was still available to access from here.

With a weary "Apartum," I slashed the tip of my staff over the closed-opening and managed to tap into the deteriorating passageway. "Come on, before it closes."

Maeve strutted back over to me, swaying her hips. I didn't trust her as far as I could throw her with a Soulfire-empowered Forzare. "Lady's first," I said. She eyed me and stepped through into the upper reaches of Arctis Tor, momentarily hesitating. I followed her and closed the Way, then hastened toward the lip of black-ice.

I had bad memories of this place, almost as bad as those inflicted in the past week. Now it seemed Maeve had her own. The sooner we were gone the better. The next Way opened more naturally, the first in a long and unpleasant journey.

DsdnDsdnDsdn

Close to an hour after leaving behind Demonreach and the two of us finally appeared on the dusky shores of O'ahu. It wasn't the island we needed, merely the first in the row as far as getting to the destination went. Like all good and unnecessarily complicated things, you had to cut back and forth between the main seven before you could access the Way to the eighth, Kaho'olawe.

Maeve had remained tactfully silent throughout, speaking only to provide the aforementioned destination, something I found unsettling and more than a hint suspicious. She still eyed me darkly, but that pleased little smirk remained on her expression otherwise. I made sure she was never behind me to be certain I wouldn't get a knife in the back, though where exactly she could have hidden one...

Well.

It was still dark when we emerged to the first beach, not far from Honolulu itself. Waikiki beach, most likely.

The first local spirit jumped us five feet past the Way. I honestly had no idea what to expect from the fae that inhabited these islands, but a coconut mask with sulfurous red eyes certainly placed fairly low on the list.

I batted it aside with my staff, only to have the thing explode into a fiery aura and come back twice as hard and fast. As I prepared to swat it again, Maeve moved and a tendril of cold frost burst from her palm, engulfing what might have been a sort-of sprite and strangling the life from it into all that remained was a hard ball of ice.

"As you were, wizard," she said gleefully.

DsdnDsdnDsdn

Sweating, itchy, and pissed off, I slashed open the thirteenth Way and stumbled out with Maeve right on my heels, chucking winter doom left, right, and center at the Mo'ai statues lumbering behind us.

Despite dozens of cracks that bristled with spikes of ice, the enchanted stone warriors hovered forward with an implacable fortitude to see us dead and gone.

We had already been ambushed twice more since the initial welcoming assault about forty minutes ago. Most of the time, Maeve gave me first rights to blowing it out of the water, and while I tried to figure out what would work thereafter, she would promptly swat it aside like nothing and we'd continue along our way.

That all changed when the cannon-fodder fell back and the Big Dogs emerged from their doghouses. The guys with decades and centuries and millennium of time to stew and build up their strengths.

Guys like Scarecrow, or the Eldest Gruff. Only these weren't entirely tied into Summer status, in the same roundabout way that the Erlking and the goblins tended to freelance most of the year and come in to call for Winter when they were required.

Apparently Summer had given the call, because they sure as hell had answered.

The nearest floating Mo'ai shook as a lance of plasma burst forth from each dully sparkling eye and razed the ground beneath it in startling yellow-blue flames, shaking the soil and air with displaced electrons. The other three repeated the gesture, and as I fell toward Kaho'olawe at long last, I reached back and snagged Maeve about the waist to drag her with me.

Three bolts passed through the space we had just occupied and vanished when they exited the Way. The other five angled downward and exploded just before that point and showered shrapnel of red-hot sand across our bodies.

I screamed. I panted. I closed the Way with a hoarse, panicked shout. I may have blacked out.

All I know is, I opened my eyes again a lesser eternity later to find the pits scoured throughout my shirt and jeans cleansed by winter ice, and Maeve sitting near me with half her dreadlocks burned away and faint scars dotting her previously-perfect skin. I had never seen her look so worn down before, though her features rearranged themselves as soon as my eyelids began to stir.

I still caught the glimpse of uncertainty before it was gone.

"Are you able-bodied again, wizard?" she asked me without inflection to her tone.

I grunted an affirmative and sat up, reaching over to grasp my staff and use it to help hobble upright. Maeve rose a smidgeon unsteadily herself.

I took my first step forward before remembering where we were. A distant thudding impacted the air every four or five seconds, alerting me to the Mo'ai's efforts to brute-force their way through the lingering traces of my hastily closed Way.

I had no doubt in my mind that they would succeed before much longer. This was their home turf, their prime territory, and I was half-mad with agony when I attempted to shut it. If they didn't break through within the next minute or two, I'd deep-fry and eat my hat.

"Lets go."

DsdnDsdnDsdn

"You can not be serious."

"I can. It is. It will devour us."

There is a reason why this island is deserted. It isn't the Nature Reserve. It isn't because of the military training that went on here, though that certainly helped.

It's because when they dropped bombs on Kaho'olawe, they woke up what was sleeping here, and it plagued the souls of everyone that was available in the aftermath until the government stepped in and told them to get out of dodge.

Mab probably had a hand in that. Which was why her Knight and Lady were here, now, probably seventy years since things began to go to Moria.

The dripping genius loci of Kaho'olawe, wrapped in magma, garbed in shadows that pulsed and hummed with the faint flash of violently bright light on occasion, oozing pockets of bright yellow lava, took another step forward and spread yellow-orange cracks of molten magma surging throughout the distance between us for another twenty feet around. They immediately began to dry and crust over into obsidian glass.

Sweat glittered across Maeve's neck and the side of her face. I'm sure my own were drenched by comparison.

"How do we kill this thing? What are we even supposed to do here, Maeve?" My voice cracked at the end and I swallowed dryly. One lumbering arm reared back and a ball of lava arose across its misshapen palm, which it threw toward the stalactites dipping down from the maw of the cavern over our heads.

I jumped back and to one side to avoid the immediate drip of flesh-devouring fiery-stone that sloughed free and splashed where I had been standing. Maeve followed my motions and moved to the other side, no longer so sure about protecting my hide as thinking.

I let her, trying desperately to figure out something on my own.

A gurgling roar filled my ears and shook my teeth as it spoke in a garbled tongue. Probably something ancient-Sumerian. Pits bled up around us from the red stone and began to gather greater sums of raw magma to them.

Without stopping for thought, I leveled my staff at the first two and bit out, hard, quick, "Infriga!" I felt my gaze overlap temporarily as the mantle finally stirred, seeing things as if in double vision. It cleared in the time it took to exhale my spell, but I felt sharper, stronger, and above all, furious.

Maeve's head whipped around to stare at me as the gathering pools flashed from edge to center to edge again into ice at a rapid pace. It was already starting to melt by the time each reached the other side from where they had begun, but I threw myself across them and landed beside my Lady in a single bound, taking in her own slightly hungry expression with a splay of my teeth.

As soon as we were done here I'd take her over the thing's frozen corpse.

With that invigorating promise in mind, somehow knowing that she was aware of my intentions, we turned back to face the genius loci. I knew enough in the general range from my work with Demonreach, enough that this one should have been predicting our moves with more ease than it already had.

The answer to that came as I listened to my power; it was responding not just to my Lady, but to my Queen; here she had long ago laid her power to still that which we now faced together. Her power still suffused the ground, the very air itself. It masked our actions and reactions and slowed the loci down to regular thought.

My lips peeled back further into a genuine snarl, satisfied at having hampered one of its greatest abilities. "My Knight," Maeve hissed into one ear, dragging me away from the bubbling pit I had not noticed forming beneath our feet.

A surge of irritation rose at her interruption and my own stupidity. I could still, despite my prowess, be killed. It took more effort than I desired to put into it, but I still responded to her warning. "Thank you."

With that we turned our attention to wearing away at the loci's physical manifestation. The shards of constantly accumulating obsidian gave me regular opportunities to shred its limbs with Forzare, and together we would freeze the stumpy, hole-riddled section and repeat the process.

Still. It burned and it bellowed, and as before with the lesser of the great guardians, I was showered in pain and agony in return for every inch we cost the lava demon.

My Lady had to turn her efforts to cementing the floor beneath our feet in renewing platelets of ice, else we'd have sunk into the pot of fire and flame from which it came. And that, at last, sparked the idea I needed to put it down for a time.

Turning from the regenerating body before us, I gathered my will and, despite the fatigue that drew my features taut, released my intention against the floor and walls just past it where that pot was boiling. A hairsbreadth before the spell left my lips, Maeve's will collided with my own and fortified it, directed it crucially with exacting attention, supplying my body with her own strength in the Winter Wellspring.

"Dispertius!"

The dormant volcano rumbled as four man-sized holes exploded outward, spilling the fuming mess out across the outside world again. The genius loci had taken no more than two steps forward, and though it cracked the ice we all stood upon from wall to wall, no new obsidian developed therein.

I sank to one knee as the exhaustion of my spell overtook the mantle, and Maeve collapsed beside me, hyperventilating at the shared taxation. "Never..." she began in a whisper, "have I... nor again..." her words were halting and trailed off. She managed to fortify the floor again before it broke and threw us down into the still-draining magma, however.

I felt my desire for combat ebbing as the mantle receded its attention. And the genius loci took another rumbling, furious step forward, unable to bring forth its will exactly as before.

This is it, I thought slowly. I could still faintly detect Mab's leftover energy abound, but grasping it was not possible as I was. I could barely support my own weight, and that with the staff for help.

It lobbed another sphere of lava and I raised my shield bracelet, uttering "Defendarius," while I still had the energy. Blistering heat bled across the surface and I was jarred backward by the strength of the blow, but it splattered harmlessly across the shield-globe without directly burning myself or Maeve.

The loci seemed to draw itself upward, then, shuddering, be it in primal rage or some other sense. The walls shook again more heavily, and I collapsed backwards on my ass, nearly loosing the shield in the process.

I looked over to the Winter Lady, no longer sure of how I felt regarding her. Her lips had cracked, dripping faint blood across my duster and along the ice below. For some reason she seemed especially vulnerable, though I knew otherwise.

We had no way out of this except for through the Way we had come, or else downward into the pit below. Even if I wanted to, I knew that if I tried to escape before we had finished here, the mantle would abandon me as it had on Demonreach.

"God, I hate these decisions." Struggling to my feet, I met the burning demon's eyes and dug deeper than I ever wanted to dig, beneath the mantle of the Winter Knight, and into my very soul itself. It mattered little how physically drained I was if this thing ate me alive.

I had to strike at it while I still had the resources available to do so.

I was just probably going to kill myself doing so instead.

"Maeve, I need whatever you have left to spare." If my hunch was right, I could pull this off, but I needed her help for at least a moment or two to know. Her head turned up toward mine for a second before dipping back down again. Without a word, I felt her attention envelop my own as before.

Why didn't I think of this before?

No time to second guess myself. It was now or never. I gathered up my strength, what Maeve was lending me, and just before I shouted out my intentions, I felt the residue from Mab's old energy gather toward us like a super-charged magnet drawing in all the little bits and pieces of metal about it.

"Disperdorius Pyrofuego!"

And then the direct contest of wills between us began. A direct attempt to dismantle the very essence that made up the genius loci's body and sense of self.

The kind of thing you don't attempt unless you're fully rested and on your prime turf... or happen to have a sudden channel into the heart of Arctis Tor and the Winter Wellspring in full.

I felt my blood run cold as my veins frosted over, my skin taking on a white-blue tinge, my heart shuddering to a paltry ten beats a minute. Frost manifested across my features, clothing, staff. It extended across Maeve and spread into the ice beneath our feet, reenforcing it in seconds.

Pinpricks of white fire danced across my vision as my Soulfire battled to keep my body alive, such was the cold with which I willingly bathed myself in. For a Queen or, to some degree a Lady, such a thing would have only been mildly unpleasant to mildly debilitating.

For a Knight, I may as well have opened a Way onto Pluto and hunkered down for about ten minutes. That was why I had to rely on my soul first and foremost.

Even so... even so. I had the power, and I had declared my intentions forth. And I knew I had the will to make use of them both; what I desired to be real, was, even as old Mother Winter had done to me a week ago.

The entire upper reaches of the volcano began to take on a paler blue tinge, spreading outward from the floor. Scorching heat faded into hot gusts, that into a mild breeze, and that to a cool flicker before a chill torrent.

The genius loci tried to approach and knock me down, then, its fiery flesh darkening and growing harder with every moment that passed. I stopped it in its tracks with a whirlwind of biting, sub-zero frost. It bellowed again and tried to draw strength from its surroundings, but between the emptied pot below and the rapidly freezing environment, it had little enough to fortify itself upon.

Time seemed to have no meaning as we stood there. Hours could have passed, with how little I was able to feel, only I know I would have been dead a thousand times over in such a passage if it had actually occurred.

At the end the genius loci shuddered and sank to the ground as its will crumbled before the constant onslaught, going completely pitch-black even as the remaining lava below dried into new soil and fractions of obsidian throughout.

With that, I allowed my spell to fizzle out, severing the connection. I truly did pass out after that.

DsdnDsdnDsdn
​

I awoke in my bed in Arctis Tor. The old-fashioned calender hanging on one wall across from me said that two months had passed on the earth from the morning we departed from Demonreach.

I couldn't remember how many months that meant had slipped away here at Winter's heart.

I expected Sarissa to walk through the door with a tray of steaming soup and a reserved smile on her face.

Instead, Mab herself entered with the first meal in all that time for me to eat. She was not smiling, not precisely. I remembered the last time she had fed me - it had not ended well.

I wasn't so weak as to not sit up and try to greet her, but my limbs felt leaden and unresponsive, and I only managed to incline my head a bit before giving up on it.

Mab settled down beside me and set the tray across her lap, simply watching my face and eyes. I felt the urge to shift and look away, but I stared back.

"My Knight, my Knight," she began softly. "So eager to kill yourself again." She lifted the spoon and pressed it against my lips until I opened them up enough to sip. It tasted like heaven and boiled on the way down.

As she fed me she continued to speak. "You have had a guest, my Knight. He is not the usual sort I would allow here, not the least of which owing to his insult."

Better to stay silent and let her talk rather than risk saying the wrong thing. "You were foolish, my Knight, taking such power by the reigns. You would be but an empty husk by now if not for his aide."

From a corner of the room, a Way hung open in the air into the cottage on Demonreach. The genius loci of the same name stared through at me with burning eyes.

BROKEN WARDEN. JAIL AT RISK.

I blinked at the message, then looked down lower and noticed the thin vines and roots sweeping through the Way back into one of his hands. I followed it along as best I could into the room and settled at last on my right arm, where they dug into my veins and threaded upward.

I shuddered, spilling soup across my chest. "Did not your mother ever teach you to swallow?" Mab quoted me with a smile. She reached out with a napkin and dabbed the mess up before it could stain the sheets and bedding.

RECOVER. THE WARDEN MUST BE ABLE.

Demonreach returned to silence. I thought I felt his roots massaging my heart, squeezing my lungs. A faint pain rubbing over and over again.

"Why?" I finally spoke up.

"Why?" she asked back. "Why did I send my daughter to you? Why did I send you to Kaho'olawe together?" I nodded impatiently at her, almost spilling the next spoonful of soup. Strength was definitely returning as I ate, enough so that I could rise upright better.

"Because some debts are settled once, and some are renewed at certain times. And it developed a bond that you have both been sorely lacking, my Knight. Maeve has never shared her strength with a mortal. Now you are tied together deeper than even Nemesis could fool if ever again it may infect her. You will know, wizard, just the same as she."

===

Jeez. About 5200 words, four hours of writing between the past couple of days and most of it this morning. Hope someone out there likes this behemoth.
​

 

Awesome. You pull off Harry's snarky attitude perfectly. When I made the challenge, I was kind of hoping for a story where Cold Days had a slightly happier ending. Seems you went the opposite way. xD

Creepily kinky Maeve is full of win.

Woulda been nice if he'd spoken a bit to Maeve towards the end, there... But all in all, this was great.

Keep the stories and challenges coming, folks!

Edit: Zenzao, if you've got any other challenges for me, go ahead. Cause I'm still drawing a complete blank on what to do with the first one.

 

Excellent. I considered having Maeve show up again at the end, but Mab could provide a bit more closure for the plot itself. Still... hm.

Fair enough, how about either of these? On a side-note, I'll take another, if you don't mind.

Challenge: Ebenezar McCoy thought he had managed to shield his grandson from the repercussions of killing Justin DuMorne, even if it had taken every last favor the Senior Council still owed him. What he doesn't know will hurt him, however; Nicodemus Archelone got to the boy first.

Alternative Challenge: It wasn't supposed to be this way, Ebenezar McCoy, the White Council's one and only Blackstaff, stared through the sulfurous smoke and shards of brimstone as he blocked yet another stream of hellfire from the Warlocke ahead of him. How was he supposed to kill his own grandchild after tracking him down again at last? How could he have ever let the boy slip through his fingers ten years ago with a member of the Order of the Blackened Denarius

 

Gotten started. I'm gonna sit down with a nice glass of scotch tonight and nail this bitch (of a story).

As for another challenge...?

We need some Dresden/Molly to start up the revolution. I was thinking, maybe, a fic where Harry and Molly come out of the closet, so to speak, as a couple. If you're in the mood for comedy.

If not...

"Taking Molly out to the countryside for thaumaturgy seemed like a good idea. If we'd remembered the second sleeping bag. Charity was going to kill me..."
Should, but doesn't have to include skinny dipping.


Or if you're more inclined towards action.

Warden!Molly and Warden!Dresden along with choice allies raid a Red Court stronghold in Bogota where one of the Lords of Outer Night is reportedly present.

Set: Whenever. Would be pretty neat to see how the war had resolved itself if it hadn't been for the events in Changes. Besides, I kinda disagree about Molly's talents being useless in combat. Sure, she's sensitive, but if she can get past that, imagine how much it'd suck to try to direct your forces over the noise of her rave spell.

 

Viva la revolution

I've already posted the first part of this story somewhere in this thread, but since a lot of it has been fixed up and polished, and since the second part would make little sense without it, I kept it there. There's still, probably, a third part coming.

Very, very unsafe for work. Viva la revolution. Your move, other Dresden/Molly writers!


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There are certain things in life you just don't do. Like talk at the theatre, or enjoy the Starwars prequels, or have sex with your 17-year-old apprentice. At least that had been my moral standpoint for a long time. But with said beautiful 17-year-old girl standing gloriously naked in front of my fireplace, her skin almost glowing in the amber light, I was having a hard time remembering why I’d come up with that rule.

"People these days have so many foolish notions of morality, my host," Lasciel's voice, touched with exasperation, echoed through my mind. "She is willing and more than ready. Why should you not grant her that which she desires?"

"Because it's wrong, damnit," I shot back at the fallen angel. "On so many levels I can't even count them."

Lasciel snorted in a fashion both un-ladylike and un-angelic.

"Would it not better if she were to experience this with you first, Harry?" She appeared behind Molly, trailing a finger along the girl's nipple and the ring piercing it.

The younger girl didn't react, of course, Lasciel wasn't a corporeal being. Even so, it made a very erotic picture that I couldn’t make myself look away from.

"Would it not?" She insisted. "Rather than with someone who might be less considerate?"

I met Molly's eyes. They were blue and huge, pupils dilated.

"Look at her, my host." Despite efforts to the contrary, my gaze slipped in a downward direction again.

"She wants you. She is wet for you - And you are tormenting her by standing there doing nothing."

Her voice was honeyed and as much as it sucked to admit it, she wasn't lying. Molly looked so very vulnerable where she stood, fidgeting and uncertain, that I couldn't help myself from talking the one step that'd bring us close enough for it to be intimate. Her response was immediate and painfully obvious. Her breathing deepened and her hand twitched, as if she'd been about to move it and then changed her mind.

"Kiss her," Lasciel instructed.

I noted her voice had gone husky with desire, which was weird on multiple levels. Since she shared my mind, did the fact that I had almost no blood flowing to my brain anymore affect her too? Or did that part work separately? Or a mix between the two? I decided that the question was fucking irrelevant and bent down to kiss Molly.

Her response reminded me, in a way, of my own first time. She met the kiss eagerly, a bit too much so in point of fact, and I broke it off after a few seconds. Her mouth tasted of the minty toothpaste from my bathroom.

"Easy," I said, taking the opportunity to openly appreciate her. "Relax. There's not going to be a grading process afterwards." She chuckled weakly at my remark.


She nodded rapidly. The kiss that followed was slower and she stepped in close so that our bodies were pressed together. As the minutes went on, Molly began to press herself shamelessly against me in slow undulating motions that brought her sex in contact with my thigh and pressed her stomach against the bulging front of my jeans.

The pressure made my knees wobble and I decided it was time to move things elsewhere. I lifted Molly up and she took advantage of the elevation immediately, pressing herself against me and drawing a hissing exhalation past my lips. For a moment, the couch beckoned me. Molly was almost six feet tall and judging by the way her ass felt in my hands, she was doing some kind of physical exercising. I stubbornly ignored the complaints from my arms and carried her to the bedroom.

On the bed, Molly decided to remedy the uneven distribution of clothing among us and two minutes of clumsy but enthusiastic kissing later, she'd managed it. I looked at her where she sat, straddled across my hips, and found myself smiling.
"This might hurt a little," I warned her. It had for Elaine, that first time. Molly's cheeks went red. Well, more so anyways.

"I've - Uh - Kinda done that part before, by myself."

"Oh," I said awkwardly, relieved. We switched positions so that I was on top of her and I took full advantage of the situation, taking one of her nipples, ring and all, between my lips. She shuddered and her back arched, bringing her hips up against my body.

I couldn't help but smirk as I swirled my tongue around the golden loop and she whimpered. We switched positions again over the next few minutes and Molly displayed her ability to put a condom on me. With her mouth. I had no idea where she’d learned to do it, but it was awesome.

She descended onto me at a tortuously slow pace, but I forced myself to remain still. Her skin shone with sweat as she began to move, her eyes drifting close in bliss.

"She is quite the beauty," Lasciel remarked from beside me on the bed.

I glanced in her direction and the sight made me meet one of Molly's measured movements. She moaned softly. Blonde and athletic looking, Lasciel lay on my bed in the knee-length Greek-style toga she'd always don. Only now it was pulled up to her hips and she had hand down between parted thighs, trailing fingers along trimmed tawny curls. Which, while strange and surprising, was also frickin' hot.

I sat up on the bed as well as I could and pulled Molly closer, even as she continued to move, pressing her breasts against my chest, her pebble-hard nipples and the piercings an intriguingly pleasant tactile addition.

"Stimulate her clitoris, Harry," Lasciel's said from behind me, her instructive tone of voice a breathy caress in of itself. "And bite her neck, gently."

"Do I have to remind you that this not my first time?" I thought in annoyance and sent it back at her. Stupid meddling angels.

But I did as she'd suggested, slipping my hand in between Molly's body and my own, parting the slick folds at the top of her sex to reach the small sensitive nub hidden there. Molly's shuddered at the first contact and after only a few seconds, she'd put her arms around me in vice grip, hips jerking and body shaking violently as a series of low moans slipped past her lips.

I just stared at her. Had she just...? With a little mewling sound, her body went limp against mine, save for a little tremor every now and then whenever I moved. Well… This was something new.

"Hey," I whispered to Molly, who looked kind of groggy. She shifted, eyes drifting close as another little aftershock went through her body, and then looked down at where we were joined and where I was, still, painfully hard.

"Oh," she said, in a small voice. Embarrassment crept across her face, but was quickly replaced with determination. She slid off me, pushed me back against the bed again with a soft hand against my chest, then lay down beside me and took a hold of my shaft.

On the other side of the bed, Lasciel rested her head against my shoulder, the hand between her thighs speeding up in synchronisation with Molly's. I paid attention my apprentice, directing her efforts. Her firm breasts pushed against my arm and chest in rhythm with her labour and I pressed myself closer to feel more of her.

“Am – am I doing this right?”

I put my hand on over hers, adjusting her grip and she continued with renewed fervour.

“You’re doing great,” I said, my voice choked down to something like a groan as her increasing accurate and quick hand-movements brought me closer and closer to release.

Her smile slowly grew into a grin and the growing confidence was sexy on her.

“Molly,” I groaned. “I’m getting close.”

Either Molly was too wrapped up in her work or she didn’t care, because she kept on pumping, running the pad of her thumb across my tip in a slow circle until I shuddered and came all over her hand and stomach.

We had enough energy left afterwards to shower and to throw the stained covers into a corner before sleep came for us with a large stick and knocked us unconscious. I woke up aching, but for the most part, it was a good kind of ache. And, as a bonus of considerable importance, there was a warm, soft female body draped across my own.

It had been years since Susan had left and I hadn't fully realised just how much I'd missed it. There was a “Mmm..." sound from Molly as she stretched out lazily on the bed, a thoroughly distracting sight. She caught me looking and smiled sleepily at me.

"Morning," she whispered, cuddling up closer, resting her head against my chest.

I mumbled something only loosely related to actual English in return. I cleared my throat.

"We have a few things to talk about, Molly. Stuff I was going to bring up last night before we got - uh- distracted."

Her smile broadened and I felt her hands leave neutral grounds.

"Later," she said, slender fingers quickly coaxing a reaction from my weary body. "First-"

She straddled my hips, which I did not object to in the slightest. That is, until there was a knock on the door. A rapid bam-bam-bam of fists striking metal with what I took to be great agitation, followed by Charity's Carpenter's angry shout.

"Harry Dresden, open the door this instant!"

Molly jumped off me so quickly that she almost fell off the bed and I just sat there in shock for a moment before joining my apprentice in getting dressed.

"What're we going to do?" She said in a panicked whisper.

I looked from her to the door where Charity kept on making a ruckus.

"Uh-"

For a second, I seriously considered punching a hole in reality and take a chance with whatever was on the Nevernever side. Then that wave of crazy passed and I towards the angry woman.

“I’ll be there in a moment, Charity. Don’t knock the door down.”

***
"Forgive me Father, for I have sinned." I took a deep ponderous breath, then added. "That's what you're supposed to say, right?"

There was a muted chuckled from the other side. It wasn’t often that I found myself in St Mary’s church when there wasn’t a monster chasing me.

"Yes. I must admit I never thought I'd see you here."

"Never thought I'd be here," I said. "But uh- I don't know who else to talk to."

I paused, trying to think of how to phrase what I was about to say - confess. Apparently, Forthill thought I needed coaxing.

"Is it about your relationship with the vampire?"

I felt my cheeks colour. "Hell's bells, padre, no. For the last time, Thomas and
I aren't..."

I sighed heavily.

"It's about Molly. I- We- When we got back to my place afterwards." I swallowed and decided to bite the bullet.

Odds were good that if Charity ever found out, I'd deal with a literal one.


"We had sex."

The old priest cleared his throat.

"I suspected the girl was fond of you, but I didn't think you'd take advantage of the situation."

I winced.

"I didn't take advantage, exactly."

"No? Then why are you here talking to me?"

He didn't sound angry, just disappointed, which was hell of a lot worse. Guilt gnawed at my stomach like a hungry beast and I looked down at my hands where they were folded in my lap.

"I'm sorry," I said, finally.

Forthill made a sound of agreement, then said. "I absolve you of your sins, in the name of the Father, the Son and-"

I stood up before he could finish. It wasn't God I'd come to see or ask for forgiveness. That was just asking for an ironic lightning bolt up the ass.

"Thank you, padre."

I felt better about myself for a few hours. Up until the moment when the time for Molly's arrival was drawing close and I began to feel a low hum of excitement at the prospect of seeing her. I took a long cold shower, which helped, but only for a little while. By the time someone knocked on the door of the apartment, my hands were trembling slightly in anticipation.

As I opened the door, I firmly told myself that I wasn't going to be repeating past mistakes. And then I saw her. My first thought was that there was no way Charity had let her daughter leave the house dressed the way she currently was. If I had money, I'd bet them on that Molly had another change of clothes in the backpack slung over her shoulder and that she'd switched outfits somewhere along the way.

She wore a skirt that, while not exactly improper, showed off her long legs. The tank-top didn't have much in the way of cleavage, but it was strained tight over the curves of her breasts. She'd lost some of the piercings on her face, too, which suited her far better in my opinion. It'd definitely make kissing her a lot simpler.

I mentally slapped myself. Damn it, what was wrong with me?

I pointedly looked away from temptation as I let her walk past me and walked back to the kitchen where a stew had been cooking for a large part of the day. I rarely put much effort into cooking meals, but tonight I was trying to replicate one of my first lessons with Ebenezer.

He'd taken me for a long walk on his lands and by nightfall, he'd cooked a stew over an open fire and we'd sat there talking. Both about my time with DuMorne, my subsequent imprisonment and interrogation at the hands of the White Council, and what would follow. He'd laid down the rules for me that night and hadn't needed to repeat himself afterwards.

I didn't particularly feel like driving out of the city, though, so I'd only gone as for as replicating the food part. The smell of it brought back memories and I smiled as I asked Molly to have a seat. She did, looking somewhat perplexed.

I've read somewhere, or possibly heard from Murphy, that women are more comfortable having the person they're talking to sitting next to them. I considered sitting down next to Molly on the couch for our talk, but with what had happened the other night, decided against it. Distance felt safer and I settled in the recliner opposite her instead, clearing my throat.

“We never got to talk the other night,” I told her, pretending I didn’t notice how she smiled hopefully at the words and how her cheeks tinted pink.
“But a talk is long overdue.”

Molly blinked twice in quick succession. Maybe this wasn’t what she’d expected I’d asked her over for. Well, tough. I went over everything with her. Our current placement under the sword of Damocles, the rules I expected her to follow as my apprentice, as well as how we’d arrange her studies. It was pretty damn obvious she did not care for being talked down to by an authority figure one bit, but once more, she’d just have to learn.

If there is one lesson in life good for each and every one of us to learn, it is the fact that there is always someone out there who is smarter, stronger, prettier or more skilled than you are. Someone is always going to be the boss of you. They might not always deserve that position, but you don’t always get a choice in the matter.

Once I felt that I had conveyed what I wanted to her, I brought the food. It wasn’t all that bad, if I may say so myself. Molly seemed a bit surprised by the fact that it was edible. I suspected Charity might’ve been involved in putting those thought into her head. We ate in silence. It wasn’t until the food was gone and the plates put in the sink that the silence became – loaded.

I’m not sure I can describe exactly how or why, but the atmosphere had definitely changed. Molly was watching me and I avoided her gaze for a moment while I thought. What was I to do?

“You could always have her again,” Lasciel suggested, her tone conversational. “She is waiting for you to make a move.”

I tried to convey the scowl I couldn’t actually express on my face in the fallen angel’s direction.

“You’re just ecstatic about the possibility of corrupting a knight’s daughter, aren’t you?”

“Of course,” Lasciel agreed, laughter lurking behind the words. “The Temptress was a nickname I earned for myself long before I fell from grace.”

She appeared, her form just as wholesome and beautiful as always and settled next to Molly in the sofa, mimicking the younger girl’s posture. My apprentice took a deep breath, which I’ll admit was interesting to watch, and said.

“When do we get started with the… Magic?”

There was a note of suggestion in her voice that hinted that she might really be talking about something else entirely. I eyed her with a serious expression on my face. For a few seconds, she sat still, meeting my eyes. Then she seemed to come to some sort of decision.

She flushed prettily and then, slowly enough that it was obviously for my benefit, crossed her legs. In the crackling light on the fire, I couldn’t be sure, but there didn’t seem to be anything under that skirt. I swallowed thickly as I felt my curiosity, among other things, rising.

She noticed me noticing and her smile grew more confident. I would’ve gotten up and walked somewhere away from the forbidden fruit, but considering the state of things, moving anywhere was going to make it obvious just how much her stunt had gotten to me.

“She’s learning quickly, at least,” Lasciel remarked, smiling. “And you are right in your assumption about her underwear. She isn’t wearing any.”

My pants were rapidly shrinking. I needed a distraction and what Molly had proposed served as well as any. I’d already thought out the first few steps of her magical education and there was no time like the present.

“Now,” I said, my breathing a bit unsteady. “We might as well get started now.”
I rose from my seat and tried to turn around in the direction of the lab before she could spot the tent at the front of the cursed loose jeans I was wearing.

Judging by how her eyes widened, though, she spotted it alright. We descend into my lab and I let Molly look at the things there for a while, after having told her not to touch anything. You never, ever touch anything in a wizard’s lab without being sure of what it is.

Molly went about the lab, peering at the various containers the shelves held. She lingered on Bob and the romance novels a bit longer than rest of the place. He was dormant in her presence, as I’d instructed him. I didn’t need any of his inappropriate comments about her theoretical kinks and she did not need a nigh unlimited source of information without a conscience. It only took her a minute or two to complete the tour. My lab isn’t much more than a concrete dank little concrete box in the ground. Molly shivered and eyed the robe I’d put on to ward off the subterrean chill.

“I guess that explains the whole robe thing,” she said, issuing at mine.

“Yupp,” I told her, smiling. “It’s not just a fashion statement.”

She raised her eyebrows.

“Really? It wouldn’t surprise me, what with the duster and all.”

I ignored the jibe with the dignity expected of a master wizard and set about showing her the basics of potion making, giving her the instructions for a simple potion that’d be a cheaper and somewhat more efficient hair dye. Molly smiled at me like I was the coolest person she’d ever seen, which did as much to warm my soul up as the robe.

“Now what?” She asked, when all the ingredients were in the small cauldron, bubbling merrily.

“Now,” I said, moving up behind her to get a better look at the potion, to make sure things had gone according to plan so that nothing would go boom.

It looked alright, though. The potion wasn’t difficult, which was why I’d chosen it for her first lesson.

“Now you need to invest it with some power. Kind of connects the dots.”

“How much?” Molly asked.
It wasn’t a stupid question. Too much power could more or less blow up more sensitive potions. For obvious reasons, this wasn’t one of them.

“It doesn’t really matter,” I told her and walked up close behind her.

I took her arms just below the elbows and held them out in front of the bubbling cauldron. In retrospect, I really should’ve known better. We were already close enough that our clothes were brushed up and Molly quickly removed whatever distance there had been, leaning back against me even as she held out her arms as instructed.

“Like this?” She asked, her tone a mix of breathy excitement and teasing.

“Yeah,” I replied, my voice just a little rough. I let my hands drop and they ended up on her hips. “Go ahead.”

I could feel her gather her will - her magic- about her and deliberately move my hands across her stomach, just below her navel, in a slow caress. My apprentice’s will unravelled in a flutter of power.

“Focus,” I told her, voice touched with chiding. “A vampire wouldn’t wait for you to get ready.”

She tried again and I moved my hand upwards across silky smooth skin, tracing the tattoo of a serpent she had there. It was tricky with her tight top, but worth it once I pushed aside her bra and took a stiff nipple between thumb and forefinger. Molly drew a sharp breath, pressing herself against the bulge at front of my jeans.

“You’re not being fair,” she complained, even as she rubbed up against me.

I smiled and leaned in close to her ear, whispering. “True.”

I put the hand I still wore a leather glove on over her stomach to hold press her even closer.

“Should I stop so that you can focus?” I asked, breath tickling her earlobe. She shuddered.

“No. I can do it,” she insisted stubbornly, and as she turned her head a little in my direction, I could also see a fiery look of challenge in her eyes.

I grinned. Game on, then.

She got to work again, gathering her will, focusing it, shaping it for the purpose she had in mind. I let her, taking my time considering my counter-move, idly caressing her tummy in slow soft motions.

To me, gathering my will was a process as familiar and uncomplicated as drawing breath. For an apprentice wizard, though, it took time and focus. There was no rush. The real question was whether I wanted to draw things out or not?

Molly shuddered as my fingers dipped close to the edge of her skirt, which made up my mind for me. I definitely wanted to draw things out. With my gloved left hand, I brushed aside her hair, clearing her throat.

A light flush touched the fair skin there and I did my part to add to it, kissing, sucking and biting. Molly tilted her head to the side within fifteen seconds, allowing me greater access, which I made good use of. Before the minute had past, her grasp of the magic she’d been gathering slipped and I grinned against the crook of her neck, dipping for to leave a kiss at her shoulder before straightening.

Her breathing was heavy and with her bra still askew from earlier, the tips of her breasts were straining noticeably against the thin fabric. I drew a circle around each, meeting the gyrations of her hips that my touch caused.

I really wanted to bend her over the small workspace left on the table in the middle of the lab, hike that skirt up and take her. I told her as much while sliding my hands up her leg and she shuddered as much at the words as my touch. I stopped an inch from her sex, slowly running my fingers along the wet skin of her inner thigh while I thought.

As fun as this was, I needed Molly to complete the spell for the lesson to be finished. If we kept up this game, she wouldn’t manage it successfully. At a later stage in her training, this would be excellent practise in getting her focus together in a difficult situation, but she wasn’t ready to do it for real. It might undermine her confidence if she thought I expected her to manage it.

So I ran my hand up the front of her leg instead, despite her feeble protests, ran it up her hip and let it rest over her belly button. The muscles of her stomach were twitching and shaking in a most intriguing fashion.

“Focus, Molly,” I whispered in her ear. “Focus. You can do it.”

She shook her head almost drunkenly and began to gather her power against. It slipped away from her on the first attempt, and the second, but on the third, she managed to get a grasp on it. While she readied herself to pour the magic into the potion, I just basked her presence.

She was warm, soft and pressing every inch of her body against mine. She smelled of perfume, something flowery, and some kind of citrusy shampoo. I wanted, almost desperately, to continue. Molly was still pressing her butt against the tented front of my jeans and though she wasn’t wiggling like she’d been before, I was still almost painfully hard.

I could feel the magic pouring out of her as she completed the spell and she sagged against me for a moment.

“Well done,” I murmured against her ear, both hands on her hips to support her. “Are you alright?”

It took her a moment.

“Yeah. I’m fine. That was – exhausting.”

“It usually is, the first few times,” I said, idly lifting her skirt up.

I took a moment to appreciate the pale upper curve of her ass and the way she shivered when I ran my fingers along the goose bumps on her skin. As satisfying as it would no doubt be to do as I’d earlier said, bend her over the table there Little Chicago stood, and fuck her silly, it just didn’t feel right. But I had another idea.

“You’ve done well for tonight, kid,” I said, gently nudging her backwards until she stood by the table in the centre of the little basement.

I bent down and kissed her and she responding with a searing intensity. When I pulled away, she made a whimpering sound at the back of her throat in protest.

“This isn’t going to be easy, Molly. You’re going be tempted to use your magic in ways that seem might seem to be ‘The right thing’ or ‘a small act of evil for the sake of the greater good.’”

It was tempting to indulge in another kiss, as I leant in again. Molly’s lips were a little swollen looking and moist. Her cheeks were flushed and her breathing came out in excited little pants. I managed it, though, pressing my lips to her forehead instead.

“If you make that choice, we’re both going to die.” I kneeled in front of her on the hard concrete floor. “If you keep this up…”

I pressed a kiss to her kneecap and the rest of her leg did a little jerking motion in response.

Molly swallowed visibly. “If I keep this up…?” She murmured.

I smiled a little and slowly brushed her skirt up her legs.

“I’ll have to keep giving you an incentive to stay on the straight and narrow.”

She gulped, then nodded vigorously.

“That sound fair,” she agreed.

I trailed a path of kisses up her thighs, alternative between as to slow down the ascent. Molly helped me out by spreading her legs. I paused for a moment to just soak the sight of her in. For a moment, I was tempted to use my sight, just to have this memory in its perfect clarity with me forever.

“And you call me evil,” Lasciel said, as if speaking right by my ear.

I felt the corner of my mouth twitch up into a smile at her comment and pressed my lips to Molly’s sex. The response was immediate. She stiffened and her back arched, pressing her hips against my face. I was more or less ready for it and put my hand on her stomach to hold her in place, feeling how the muscles there trembled as I kissed and licked away.

The first time I’d done this had been with Susan, years and years ago. She’d been very helpful, giving me instructions and suggestions on how I might best improve my technique.

Molly didn’t. She just closed her eyes, let her head fall back and tangled her hands in my already messy hair.

My knees were already killing me, but judging by the way Molly was meeting the flicks of my tongue with rolling motions of her hips, it wouldn’t be much longer. I just hoped she wouldn’t get too enthusiastic and break my nose or something.

“Harry…”

It wasn’t as dramatic as the first time. A violent shudder shook Molly’s body for a moment, which I was in a good position to feel. Then her legs seemed to lose all their strength and she slowly sank down across my lap, her arms and legs wrapped around me for support.

We stayed like that for a while. My knees and legs were protesting strenuously and I had a serious case of blue balls, but it was probably the closest I’d been to happy in a pretty long time.

“You alright, Grasshopper?” I asked.

“Yeah,” she replied, her voice feeble but happy. “That was-“

She left it unsaid, but the silly grin on her face said enough.

“You earned it.”

Another minute of silence went by.

“We can’t tell mom about this,” Molly said after a while. “She’d kill you – maybe me too.”

I grimaced. Having seen Charity Carpenter beat the crap out of faerie beasts with a sledgehammer recently, I had to agree. It was probably best to leave that woman unscorned.

“True. Speaking of which… They’re probably expecting you back soon.”

There was a look of disappointment on her face for a second or two and then she managed to hide it.

“Yeah… I can’t stay here every night, I guess.”

“No,” I said and kissed her forehead. “Help me up. I think I might need knee surgery.”

This was probably a bad idea, all of it. It was probably going to be biting me in the ass sooner rather than later. But for the moment, I just couldn’t bring myself to care.

 

I've always heard that there are some lessons in life that you simply have to learn the hard way. For example? Not bringing your just-turned-nineteen, sexually-starved-for-two-years, eager-to-act apprentice out to the middle of no-where for an extended vacation away from the rest of the world.

Taking Molly out to the countryside for thaumaturgy seemed like a good idea.

Oh, sure, I'd had noble intentions. Teach the grasshopper a few more magically-related things out here in the countryside that she just couldn't get the hang of in the city, what with all the psychic-noise she had shown herself to be sensitive to in Chicago.

See, among wizard-types like us, you've got your brawny heavy-hitter that favors striking from afar, burning the enemy and their three-story mansion to the ground without letting them know what just hit them or breaking a sweat over it unless we've opened up the Sight beforehand, and then you've got the more delicate and reserved up-close magician susceptible to feedback that would rather drop a befuddling veil around a person, place, or problem and keep them dazzled and disoriented with illusions and traps until the aforementioned heavy-hitter arrived on scene to assist with the kill.

Almost all of the hedgewitchs and light-wizards that I've known across the years have shown the same inclination of retreating for a safe distance once I show up and start slinging about energy like a bad spaghetti western shootout. Headaches and worse followed for those few that had the gumption to stick around and lend their continued aid.

And hey, I'm not knocking it. There have been plenty of successful men and women of the White Council that couldn't blow up a Red Court vamp if their life depended on it, but give them a bit of build up and time to plan, and they'd have the fanged fiend gnawing on its own major arteries and none the wiser for it. That's the kind of skill that Molly aspired to develop, and thus why we were out here training.

I was hoping to expand on her tracking skills via thaumaturgy, brush up her illusions, and test her range and creativity with veils, all the while building up her reserves. Another closely-kept secret is that magic is three-parts stamina and one-part effort, will, and intention to hold it active after-all, and I knew that she was woefully-inadequate in that regard.

The plan had gone off with aplomb for several hours. Most of which were spent in equal parts explanation, practice, and then the practical exam testing it out toward the end. We were both pretty slathered in sweat and sore with fatigue by the time I called it a day in the fading sunlight; even my own deep tank was running close to empty after everything was said and done.

The nearby creek running below the grassy knoll we were camped on whispered enticingly for a good soaking to relieve the worst of our aches and pains. While I stood about debating the merits of a cool dip over gathering more firewood for the coming night, Molly beat me to the punch by stripping off her damp blouse and shimmying out her of sticky blue jeans and tennis shoes before I could raise an objection.

"Molly...!" in the time it took to say that one word, she had flicked her hair loose of the ponytail it had been in all day and dragged herself a few feet away, pausing at the edge of the water only to glance over her shoulder at me.

Against my better judgment my eyes sought out the shapelier parts of her anatomy in the faint light. She had at least worn basic undergarments, but they clung to her more-than-adequate figure in such delicious, dripping and nearly transparent lines that she may as well have foregone them altogether.

"Like what you see, Harry?" she called over in a mildly teasing tone, half-turning to display her body better.

I swallowed dryly and closed my gaping mouth.

In short, yes. Yes, I liked what I saw very much. Going without a woman for years - plural, thank you very much - at a time kind of does that to a man's libido. It starts stirring at the first hint of tantalizing flesh and the option to indulge in it.

I grunted and shoved said snarling libido back into the dark cavern it had crawled up from and rolled another boulder over the opening. I already knew from experience that sating such desires would leave me with pain that far outweighed the pleasure and lasted quite a bit longer to boot, and I had no intention of participating in that with Molly Carpenter, daughter of my best friend and his homicidally-protective wife.

Besides, I had already seen what Molly had to offer a couple of years ago when this apprentice-master relationship had begun, and even dead-exhausted and high on endorphins, I had found the strength to refuse her naked advances.

"Let me know when you're finished," I told her in a flinty tone and turned away. I couldn't see the slight furrow that marred her brow or the frown that settled across her lips, but I heard the sharp exhalation she made before the splash of body meeting water drowned it out.

I looked around at the sparse bundle of sticks set aside for the night, to the tent still waiting to be put up, and then up to the darkening sky. Wisps of reddish-orange light fell over the trees clearly, but nightfall was closing in upon the horizon. We'd need more wood to make it through the night even with magic to aid the process.

"I'll be back shortly..." I turned my head in her direction, thinking it safe now that she had entered the water, and for the second time in as many minutes my voice trailed away when I laid eyes upon the young woman. She had nixed the cumbersome bra and pitched it up to the rest of her discarded clothing, settling back into the gentle flow and ebb of the river and wading backwards in a languid grace.

Let's just say her 'flotation devices' were holding up to the age-old adage, points-upright. After a moment she blinked her eyes open and saw me gaping yet again, and dove beneath the surface only to reappear a little further out and into a deeper section, treading water. "The temperature's just fine, Harry!"

I doubted that. I felt about ready to go up in spontaneous combustion in more ways than one.

Without another word I dragged myself away from the river and went in search of enough wood until my own desire cooled down.

DsdnDsdnDsdn

Almost an hour passed by before I felt confident enough to return to camp.

I had gone out of my way in the search to increase the exhaustion in my limbs and body until the tight coil in the middle of my belly relaxed - short of seduction by a Sidhe noble, I should have been too tired to feel much of or react to anything in the way of hormones.

Unexpected cloud cover had driven the final rays of sunlight away more quickly in my absence than I'd counted for, though just enough moonlight spilled through for me to see that Molly had come back onto dry land, huddled up on her knees and bent over the paltry pile of tender from earlier in the day. I couldn't quite make it out, but I thought she was wearing her shirt again.

"C'mon," she uttered grimly, and a flash of sparks as she struck stone to metal danced over the bundle uselessly before fading. Twice more she tried, the third one catching ahold of fabric and sending up smoke before she leaped back and began batting at the small embers eating into her blouse.

I couldn't help it; I laughed. She was sprawled on her ass and elbows, wisps of gray still rising from the burns in the cloth, and her expression of bewilderment and faint panic as she tried to put out the very source of heat and warmth she had been working on drew the mirth out of my fatigue.

Her head whipped upright in my direction as I finished coming over the hilltop nearest. "Harry? Harry!" The blue werelight of my pentacle amulet dancing over the top of my staff, clutched in the crook of one elbow so as not to interfere with the wood in my arms, gave my features away even as my voice rang over the terrain.

​

She scrambled upright and met me halfway with a scowl dominating her pleasant features. "Where have you been at?" she demanded around a faint shiver. "I've been cold and terrified that something ate you out there!"

"Gathering wood took longer than I thought." I answered simply, continuing toward the lackluster bundle she had been working over.

Molly fumed for a moment more before masking her emotions and following at my side. She helped stack the wood nearby when I dropped down to one knee with a grunt, and after setting my staff along the ground so the light still illuminated the area, I showed her the proper way to lay out a fire bundle.

Another shiver racked her form.

"Are you still wearing the same wet shirt from earlier?" I asked her.

Molly sniffed and sat back on her haunches. She hadn't put her jeans back on yet, I noticed. The blouse was a poor substitute for covering her thighs, pooling around the middle of her waist instead, and she crossed her arms beneath her breasts to try and preserve a bit of warmth.

I finally realized how cool it was when the goosebumps on her arms and legs caught the werelight. Even without a wind chill coming through, the temperature had fallen steadily, and in my warm and heavy leather duster, I hadn't processed the difference.

I hadn't taught her even my simplest of fire charms yet, Flickum Bicus, leaving just the flint and steel in our equipment by the still-undone tent, and she hadn't brought along anything warmer while I was off gallivanting through the woods trying to bring myself back under control.

She was liable to catch a cold or worse, if she hadn't already.

Well done, Harry.

I shut down the lesson on building a proper fire and simply grabbed my staff, tugging loose the amulet and aiming the end of the wooden foci toward its less fortunate brethren. "Flickum Bicus," I intoned, suffusing the charm with my exhaustion and intent for the same warmth I wore to expand throughout the camp.

A small blaze stirred to life and illuminated the both of us properly in yellow light and a rush of welcome heat. Molly let out a relieved sigh and moved closer, warming her hands and face.

I shrugged out of my duster and set it across her shoulders as well. "Stay put and try to warm up, grasshopper."

She turned her head to watch me for a few moments and then returned her eyes to the flickering flames.

DsdnDsdnDsdn

It took me the better part of an hour to finagle the tent spikes into position and hammer them into the ground through the loops in the leather with repetitive rounds of "Forzare!" until the canvas of cloth stood upright at last.

Molly sneezed twice along the way. I kept glancing at her out of the corner of my eye as I worked, gauging her health. Her face was slightly slacken, though if that was from the hearty workout throughout the day or the start of an illness I couldn't be sure of. Probably a bit of both.

All we had to eat was a pack of granola bars and beef jerky. Vitamin water served to wash them both down when I unpacked our lackluster dinner and presented the options to her.

"I don't s-suppose you hid a steak somewhere, did you?" she asked afterward. My stomach rumbled at the thought of one of Mac's perfectly cooked steak sandwiches, but I shook my head 'No' and stifled a weary yawn.

"We'll pack up and head back to Chicago tomorrow morning, Molly. If you're coming down with something, we don't need to spend anymore time out here than necessary."

A spike of alarm entered her features and her posture stiffened up. "N-no, Harry, I feel f-fine," she tried to deny. One eyebrow rose as she shuddered, sneezing again.

"Bless you." I said, unamused. Molly scowled and sat up, dropping my duster behind her.

"I'm going to bed." I couldn't help but watch her shapely ass saunter poorly toward the tent, bend over to riffle through our equipment, and then stiffen as she stilled her movement.

"H-harry, did you put our sleeping bags inside already?" she asked the ground.

I stood up and collected my duster, walking over to her. "No. Why?"

Molly looked back at me. "Because I don't have one."

I knelt down and dug through as well. I was sure we had packed them both and double-checked before we left, only Molly had stalled to use the bathroom beforehand, and I had gone outside for a few minutes to speak with the cabbie that would take us out to the designated Way-field. She had brought both packs out and I had locked down my place, never thinking to check again. If we'd remembered the second sleeping bag... well, mine wasn't here, either.

All of the day's events seemed to come together, then. Her prancing about half-naked, the teasing, the free view before I left.

"Hells bells, Molly. Did you really leave them both behind?"

She sniffed again and sat down, refusing to meet my eyes. "Maybe."

"'Maybe'?" I quoted back. I should have been too tried for fury, but somehow I found the strength to be plenty angry with the young woman, taking her by the shoulders and forcing her to look up at me.

"Margaret Katherine Amanda Carpenter," I intoned quietly. She flinched. Full Names tend to do that. "What exactly were you thinking? I watched you grow up, Molly, I still remember when you were young enough to wear a training bra! Those kind of memories tend to interfere with anything you might hope would be kindled between us!"

My voice has risen until it was loud enough to echo through the woods around us. Fresh tears glistened in her eyes and spilled across her cheeks, and again she shuddered, but if I had thought she might pull away, I was dearly mistaken.

Molly lunged forward and pressed her lips to mine.

My brain broke. Time faltered. Cold faded. Eternity stretched outward within every beat, her soft lips against my coarser ones, her cool and shivering flesh racked by faint sobs and pressed against my warm chest all that I registered.

All the blood in my body thrummed with a raging need to take the cold angel practically sitting in my lap and comfort her, to accept the willing offer she gave, and bring her back into the light and heat again.

She pulled back from the kiss and whispered in my ear, "P-please, Harry. Just one night. J-just once, together."

A man can only fight back against lust and desire and that begging, pleading voice so many times before they stumble at last and falter.

With a quiet groan, I answered. With the quick and fleeting set of kisses I placed against her lips, her cheek, her neck, I answered. And with fumbling fingers and a preternatural sense of the surroundings, I pulled her into my arms and fell back into the tent with my duster somehow finding itself upon the cold floor beneath us.

Passion and desire intertwined about us for the next pair of hours.

DsdnDsdnDsdn

When I opened my eyes the next morning, guilt laced every breath I took. My duster was still wrapped around us, Molly nestled into the edge of one side and pressed against my hip and shoulder delightfully, but I felt faintly ill as soon as the memories returned of why we were there together.

It had not been unpleasant. It never is. Only the consequences that followed without fail.

How was I going to explain this to her parents? I couldn't keep it under wraps. Molly would want more of us, now. More than I could give, more than I ever should have given to her the night before.

She stirred and stretched a bit in the confines of her position, then inhaled deeply and leaned up to nuzzle her cheek against my own again. "Harry..." she trailed off sleepily.

I swallowed dryly. A decision hung in the air above us as seriously as the Doom of Damocles still did. I had already surrendered to Molly after resisting for so long - and I could either push her away and cut off all physical ties so as to prevent it from occurring again, leaving her liable to falter to her urges, both magical and otherwise, or I could embrace what had begun and damn the consequences.

Either way could cost me friendships, respect, and far, far more. Either way I'd be walking down a path I could have avoided otherwise...

"No," I decided quietly. "I've made this kind of mistake before. I won't give up again." I leaned down and kissed the top of Molly's forehead, decided.

Micheal would be disappointed in me. Charity was going to kill me... but I wouldn't abandon the padawan because I couldn't control my own desires.

Sometimes, you have to accept what you've done and build off of it. Maybe, just maybe, this relationship could work without the pitfalls eating us both alive along the way.

===

Approximately 2900 words. Fitting in the quoted words was the problem, I don't think they came together as well as I would have liked and sort of stand out oddly until the last part.

Still, this to your liking, Zeelthor?
​

 

Very much so. You do Harry's snarky internal monologue way better than I do. You need to write more so that I can learn from you.

Any thoughts on my addition?

Anyways! Moar prompts!

 

Thanks

I liked yours, particularly Harry's way of teaching Molly to concentrate on the task at hand, and Lasciel's teasing all throughout the earlier segment was a nice bonus.

I did notice quite a few simple errors where a word was missing from the description, though. Briefly jarred me out of the narration, but still. Good smut!

And I second the opinion for more prompts and challenge responses, folks.

 

I'd really like a challenge for tonight, if anyone has any ideas!

Challenge: Harry walks into his first meeting of the Brighter Future Society. Basically, the group who were hanging out at Murphy's in Ghost Story. Only add Harry. Mostly, I'd like to see him interact with Felicia, the White Court vamp, but there are plenty of others it'd be neat to see him talk to.

 

Scenario, Zeelthor, if that's alright with you.

Length: I'm hesitant here so make it as long as you wish.
Time: three hours at most.

Scenario:

Lights up ahead. I clutched my blasting rod in a hand which had suddenly gone cold and clammy.

"Harry? What's wrong?" Murphy, face spattered with a blood, revolver quivering in her hand.

"It's-"

The door in front of me rippled, then burst apart in a shower of splinters. I raised my shield bracelet to eye level, concentrating on shielding me and Murphy.

"Harry," he said, "so good to see you again."

-----

Make it scary.

 

I've been trying to think of something, but I just can't. Could you try making it more specific? Or less? Either works.

Keep the challenges coming, folks!

 

A kind of tired idea put to a new spin:

"I can give you power. I can give you glory. I can give Harry Dresden."

Molly knew that Lasciel was dangerous and evil. She knew that any form of alliance with her was to forsake everything her family stood for, but the offer was just too good.


Tried pitching this to Roarian, but he wasn't up-to-date on Dresden Files, the heathen. So I'll just throw it out here instead.

 

Maybe it's the sleep deprivation, but I just had a brilliant idea.

"Harry uncovers Lara Raith's deepest darkest secret. She's actually a huge nerd."

I don't know why, but it totally makes sense to me. Whether she paints Warhammer 40k figures or if Harry and Luccio disrupted her WoW raid in Turn Coat, I think loads of lulz could be had with it.

 

Resurrecting this old challenge, or at least trying to. Not sure how well it turned out, just around 1100 words after an hour.

===

I'd like to think that I'm good with keeping my cool under pressure, all things considered. Being a Wizard of the White Council means I have to be. Too many things go to hell in a hand basket with an alarming regularity that losing my calm in the middle of a firefight could see half the town set ablaze from careless spellslinging.

And let it never be said that Harry Dresden is careless with that. Sloppy, occasionally. Dangerous? As much as iron is to a pure Fae of the Nevernever. And recklessly stubborn? Ask one of my numerable - and often times deceased -- enemies. I've got more than I can count on one hand.

But take away the supernatural and I can still wander into some pretty unpleasant situations that are otherwise completely vanilla in their origin, like accepting Arturo Genosa's all too generous offer to star in one or two of his, ah, explicit films in exchange for enough cash to pay off my rent for at least a year. How could I turn that down? I don't get enough income from my day jobs most of the time to pay for the current month, let alone twelve of them straight.

And it wasn't like I was signing over as one of Marcone's henchmen. Short term contract, straight forward regulations expected and delivered, everyone is happy so long as I could perform. A bit of pleasant 'sightseeing' was just a bonus. Things were becoming very lonely without Susan.

If only I had known who was going to be co-staring.

---
​

"Harry, harry! Good to see you!" Arturo greeted warmly as he opened the door. I responded politely and nodded in return, feeling particularly naked without my staff.

Showing up to this shindig in my usual attire felt like it would have been a bit forced. My hat, duster, and lovingly carved staff were all waiting for me in the Blue Beetle roughly seven blocks down the road from Arturo's current filming studio. The only tools I have retained were my force rings and blasting rod.

The older director gave my a quick once-over and then paused, examining my figure more critically. "Oh, I knew I was forgetting something." He motioned me ahead of himself and shut the door firmly, then scurried past to open another door with the generous term 'Actors' labeled in gold lettering. I espied a matching door across from it with 'Actresses'. I snorted wryly beneath my breath.

"Go ahead and get your script memorized and change into the outfit, Harry. And please, no deviations from either. You wouldn't believe how costly film is and losing a good reel due to outside interjections, well..." He didn't need to finish. I doubted I would need to stick any other rod but the one I'd been born with anywhere mentionable in the coming twenty or thirty minutes, and the long cylindrical blasting rod would stick out like a sore thumb if I tried to conceal it.

"Got it. Say the words, go through the motions, enjoy the sights. No ad-lib."

He smiled and I entered the well lit room, kicking the door shut in passing.

---
​

I'll give him credit where credit is due, Arturo Genosa knows how to set a scene. Sand strewn across the area, lounge chair right in the thick of it, with a comfortable blanket spread out conveniently where the camera would have the best angle of the action from where it was situated.

The rest of the area was too dark to make out and I didn't see anyone beyond just the two of us in my passing glance, not that the poor lighting helped me get away with the slightest deviation from the director's plan.

"Harry, Harry." Arturo lowered the script in his hand with a sigh and hustled over, snatching up my poorly concealed limb and prying loose the metal bands over three of my fingers as if they were greased. I blinked owlishly, taken aback with his attention to detail, and feigned a passable imitation of shock and remembrance as he stepped back and eyed me over the top of his pale sunglasses.

"Oh damn, I forgot all about those!" I uttered, grimacing on the inside at my last focus of magic being taken away. "Haven't taken those things off for so long they just feel like a part of my hand anymore, I swear. Sorry."

Arturo relented at my embarrassment, like I was caught with my hand in the cookie jar instead of wearing a bit of gaudy jewelry clashing with the already awkward, too cheery outfit.

"Alright, its fine. I'll hold onto these until we're done. Remember your first scene? The lines?" I nodded and stepped up to the faux-beach, picked up the shot glass waiting nearby with its tiny umbrella floating idly in one corner, and put on a bright smile as I reclined.

"Out of curiosity who else is in this?" I asked before the film began running. Arturo waved the question aside impatiently and began fiddling with the controls, adjusting the settings and such.

I took a sip of my mystery drink and tasted what some folks might call water. I called it an easy course to diabetes, sufficiently sugared and syruped until it matched the tone and color of dark tequila without any of the expected kick, but boy howdy did it set my already edgy nerves jumping. I forced it down and set the remainder aside again, closing my eyes and waiting.

The lights dimmed further than they already had been as the cascade of waves roared up from somewhere close by. Somewhere behind, the green screen was likely swaying with artificial ocean. How long that would last as things got hot and heavy and tested the limits of the magic-dampening spell I was wearing unbeknownst to Arturo was anyone's guess.

I almost missed the sound of soft, bare footsteps padding over the sand, and resisted the urge to open my eyes and glance over. Instead I began humming the tune jotted down in my first line and waited until she stopped at my side to open them and my mouth.

It hung open quite a bit wider than intended as I took in exactly who it was hovering overhead, lines forgotten. My first instinct was to scramble away, direct my blasting rod at her head, and channel my skills in pyromancy to their most lethal setting.

Unfortunately, everything that could have afforded me the advantage of that crucial first strike was well beyond my reach.

Deirdre had me dead to rights.

The Denarian smiled with more than enough mirth to drown a Carebear, leaned over and kissed me, and between the shock and thought of death to come, my second instinct kicked in and took note of the way she set that bikini quite well.

Hell, there are worse ways to die than tongue-wrestling a she-devil in a skimpy thong.

===

I tried to write this a bit more straight than some of the ideas that came to mind for crack without distorting Dresden's character. Hope you guy's liked this one better than my last attempt.

 

I'm pretty sure you don't just show up at the set of a porno and start saying your line to someone you've never met before. I mean, what if the actors have no chemistry?

Did he screen-test at all? And I don't buy Harry taking the job without some serious economic crap happening. When I tried to write this (And yes, I tried and fail) I had him lose the civil suit with Larry Fowler.

Anyways... Taking the rushed writing into consideration, this wasn't a bad effort. Harry seemed in character and the jokes were mostly funny.

Kind of a shame about the lack of dialogue between Dresden and Deirdre. This must be pre-Skin Game, cos after that, there'd be NO WAY he'd ever kiss her.

Lastly. Y U NO GIVE CHALLENGE?

 

Yeah, I definitely need to think about the plot a bit more. Kind of went with where the words flowed and revised a couple of times on the fly. I briefly considered the horrifying surprise of Thomas being his other co-star, given Arturo's ties to the White Court(I think, I need to re-read that particular book to be sure). Discarded it quickly enough, but it was mostly for the shock value anyway.

I suppose the whole event on the day Dresden showed up could have been hijacked by Deirdre replacing whomever actress had already been used for screen-tests, but that raises the question of why Arturo doesn't do anything. Or that Lash was masking the other Denarian's presence, if this is somewhere before Proven Guilty. Still doesn't explain why she wouldn't shank him immediately but... hm.

Thanks for the crit, Zeelthor! Always appreciated, especially on TGYH responses. Have a challenge

 

Length: how ever many you need.
Topic: Murphy and Kincaid have gone on a vacation together...what ever is the HellHound and a woman of a particularly vicious nature to do in a Summer Paradise?