bess d. fawcett (bestzeller) wrote in valesco,
@ 2012-05-09 19:21:00

Entry tags:

Drystan!
Bess scrambled into the house and shut the door as fast and as quietly as she could. Brian stared up at her from his tight grip of her blouse with wide, confused eyes, and Bess hushed him before he could start whining.

"Mummy, what--" Sadie began, but Bess pulled her away from the door as she hurried into the flat. Sadie's other hand was latched onto Stephen's, and the two hurried behind their mother as quick as their little feet could follow. She needed her children silent, and she needed them to be completely unaware of her current state or what she was attempting to do. Why on earth had she bothered to look through those sleazy magazines? Why, why had she seen that little blip of an article? If she hadn't been bored while waiting at the healer's office, she would never have noticed the proclamation a certain Kestrel made about her sister-in-law, or whatever it was and----

Focus! All Bess could and should be focusing on was not dropping her children, and finding her husband's journal. Who had told the Tattler that it would be a good idea to post their stories into one of those magical things where anyone with access could read it and then be scandalized by what the articles entailed?! Bess knew that Drystan rarely used his journal, but sometimes he did paruse the entries, to tease her, or Odette, or----

Brian was dropped (put!) into his playpen, Stephen crawled into his bed for a nap, and Sadie was shooed to her room, even though Bess knew she would be out in a second to investigate why her mother was behaving so strangely. Bess tore into the master bedroom, heading straight for the desk and its drawers.

"Where---are----you?" Bess let out in frustration. It didn't even matter, he could spot it in a rag just like she did, but at least she could try.

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brythonichero
2012-05-09 10:59 pm UTC (link)

Drystan was trying his best not to be such an ogre about the League starting in May now. Of course, his best was still a surly refusal to so much as grunt when battered with a Bludger, so that was a work in progress. But at least his intentions were genuine—for the most part. Burn-out was a serious concern for him, having had less than two months to recover from a grueling season, but he would manage. Perhaps learn to lean a little bit more on people, rather than keep everything so tightly cordoned within him.

Whatever personal feelings aside, he aimed to work harder than he ever had this season. For too many years, he'd only just missed the win. Coming in second wasn't acceptable anymore—all of Puddlemere were redoubling their efforts… and he had a good feeling about it.

After practice—though this was more of an "easing into things," he opted to shower at home. Just a quick one, Drystan thought, and he'd fix dinner for Bess and the little ones before they returned. Wrapping the towel low on his hips, he sauntered out of the master bath with happy thoughts about flannel pyjamas before an anguished growl caught his attention. Drystan stopped short in the doorway when he saw Bess bent over the desk, clearly in a mood.

He folded his arms and leaned against the door frame, unabashedly enjoying the view for a few moments before speaking. "I can't say I've ever tried it, but," his smile was guileless as he scrutinized the open drawer, "I reckon it'd be a bit of a tight squeeze for me in there."

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bestzeller
2012-05-12 12:41 am UTC (link)

It was a good thing she had become used to wearing flats when running errands with the children, because with how fast Bess twisted around in surprise, she was sure her ankles would have snapped and she would have fallen to a heap on the floor. Instead, she managed to stay upright, and after a millisecond of thought a mischievous grin appeared on her face. Yes, distraction would be the best weapon against the monster that was Charlie Spinnet. Bess could most certainly keep her husband occupied for as long as necessary.

She leaned back against the desk and crossed her arms, her eyes raking over Drystan's half-dressed form. Well, he was already right on his way into some fun misadventures, wasn't he? What was he even doing home? He did not look as if he had seen anything in print about his sister and the Kestrel, so this was a very, very good thing for Bess. Her hand flicked quickly, motioning for him to shut the door behind him. Brian could keep himself occupied with his toy quaffles, Stephen was most likely passed out asleep, and Sadie was good at knocking on doors, but she also knew that 'Adult Time' was a time that was not to be interrupted and usually found something to occupy her time.

"I don't think it's particularly fair that you're nearly naked already," Bess said swiftly, her eyes unable to pull themselves away from her husband's torso to look him in the eye. Why hadn't he shut the door yet? What had she even been doing in here, again? "I miss out in all the fun of undressing you."

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brythonichero
2012-05-12 01:46 am UTC (link)

"Did I not mention I'm a bit selfish?" Uncrossing his arms, he casually reached a hand back to shut the door and efficiently engage the lock. Somehow, despite their three equally attention-demanding children, they managed to get plenty of—mischief accomplished. The locks certainly helped. Pushing off the wall, Drystan stepped forward casually enough, the predatory gleam in his eye belying his intentions as it roved up and down the line of his wife's silhouette.

As he drew closer, he hooked his finger in her neckline and tugged her the last few inches to meet him. Drystan bent to touch his forehead to hers as his fingers dealt with the first few snaps on her front. "I like to keep the best parts for myself."

Cupping her chin, he kissed her a proper hello, then pulled back just enough so his words still whispered across her lips. "What were you looking for?"

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bestzeller
2012-05-13 11:27 pm UTC (link)

It was probably terrible how much she enjoyed being handled by her husband. Bess had never been sexually adventurous, only having three partners to her name, but Drystan drove her mad, brought out the animal in her, it was---oh, it was bad. So bad, that she managed to tune out the sounds of her children (except of course when it sounded like trouble!).

So bad. She only felt guilty about it for a moment or so, but then Drystan would kiss her like that and she got over it quickly. Mother of the year! In any case, it was the perfect distraction for her husband, and if a surprise afternoon romp kept her husband's head from rolling off in rage, well, then. How ever was she going to say no to that? Bess let Drystan's hands and lips wander, stretching her neck to provide him with more skin (and to not so subtly hint where she wanted to be touched and kissed).

"Coupons," she lied, though she had been frustrated earlier when she'd misplaced the morning papers with the toy advertisements; they would have helped justify the new dolls and action figures the children had come home with. Her hands pressed between them and went down to the knot of his towel, taking great pleasure in undoing it from around Drystan's waist before he could get her fully undressed. "I win," she laughed into his mouth.

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brythonichero
2012-07-01 03:22 am UTC (link)

It made him crazy, the way she responded to him. Drystan knew he could be much too intense at times—the trait surfaced in nearly every facet of his personality. But she managed to beat it back, rise to meet it, or simply let it play out, like she knew what was best for him, for them, when he didn't even realize what it was he needed. Pulling back to look down where the towel had been just a moment ago, he slowly moved back up to her cheeky expression.

Cocking his eyebrow, he said, "Well now, Mrs Fawcett." He took a step forward, causing her to shift back. "You're a bit of a cheat, aren't you?"

Sweeping her up into his arms, he looked down at her reprovingly as he moved away from the desk. "I reckon I've got no choice but to teach you a lesson," he told her, and tossed her only a little unceremoniously onto their bed.

He would venture to say that what followed might suggest a draw. Not that either of them would ever deign to admit it.

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