luciazephyr | FIC: other things the road to hell is paved with [24/24] COMPLETE BABY (Reply)

Upon getting home, a bunch of goons were waiting for John, all vying for a moment of his time. Reports on Bianca sightings, strange Red Court activity, the Velvet Room being abandoned en masse-- a flurry of information. Several Outfit personnel disappeared, likely ones who'd been turned by Bianca to infiltrate John's businesses, which was paranoia-inducing. A few of the remaining Red outposts were abandoned. Things were happening fast.

John looked at me, shiny ectoplasm and blood still smeared across his cheek from his tussle with the construct. "Harry."

I nodded. As much as I wanted to just revel in the victory, I knew that there was aftermath to take care of. "Go. I'm going to see what's in the fridge."

He took his entourage to the office, shutting the door behind them, leaving me alone.

What did you do after you staked claim to the third largest city in America and defended it from the Red Court?

I had a sandwich.

I felt completely drained, yet excited. It was a weird dissonance. I'd spent joy-fueled magic like I was hemorrhaging happiness, so that emotion felt distant. But the fact remained we'd just been jumped by Bianca St. Clair and we not only survived but won.

I nearly choked on my pastrami-and-provolone when I started laughing. As exhausted as I was, I had some delirious glee going on. We did it. I had enough happiness in my life to control the sun. John had just made himself liege lord of the city, and I couldn't even begin to think what Bianca's deal with him meant under the Accords, but I could tell it was going to mean something later.

But that was another day. For the moment, I just ate my sandwich, had an orange and a can of Coke as I waited for John.

I very briefly thought about heading up to my room and going to bed. I really was tired enough I could sleep a good ten hours. But... I didn't want that. Not yet.

He finally reemerged from the office over an hour later, looking as weary as I felt. There was cautious contentment in his eyes as he prowled over to where I was sitting on the couch in the living room. He still had that smudge on his face.

"Hey, c'mere," I murmured, grabbing the napkin off my plate and tugging the hem of his shirt. He put a knee on the cushion next to me, leaning down. I curled a hand around his neck and wiped at the dying blood. "What's the word?"

John smiled. "Well, you put three of my men in the hospital for severe sunburns."

I started laughing again, shaking uncontrollably. That'd be fun to explain to the doctors. "I... Sorry, that sucks for them, it's not funny... But I just barbequed the Red Court with sunshine. That's..."

"Remarkable," he murmured, whisper soft. "Awe-inspiring."

I quieted, looking up at him. "You too." I swallowed hard. "What else happened?"

"I've sent a group of my people to the Velvet Room to secure the safety of those the Reds were feeding on. They'll see to it the addicted are taken care of."

"Good." A lot of women had disappeared off the streets. We'd worked to stem the tide of innocents Bianca snatched, but we knew our control wasn't absolute. I just hoped we got there in time to save most of them.

"I put a call through to Ebenezar and asked him to pass word to the Council that the Red Court will not be entering Chicago while I am here."

Something about that pinged to me. I knew how to-the-letter deals with the Old World were. And John knew too. But the phrasing of his deal with Bianca left a huge opening. "When you had Bianca swear, you said that the Reds would have to leave your domain. If... Not to tempt fate, but if something happens to you--"

"I know," he said. "Don't worry about it for now. I know what I'm doing."

"Yeah, but--"

"Harry." He put a hand on the back of the sofa and leaned in close to me. "I told you when this started we'd defeat the Red Court, and I was right. I also told you it wouldn't stop there, did I not?"

He had. God, that was terrifying to think about. The potential this lunatic had to not just win the game, but change it. Driving the Reds away from Chicago and by doing so proving it could even be done... The supernatural world wasn't ready for him. Hell, I wasn't ready for him. I couldn't even piece together what that meant. Not yet. It was too soon and John was the big picture guy, not me.

My hand was still on his neck, and he was still leaning over me. I started to rub my thumb up and down the line of his throat where I could feel his pulse steadily thrumming. This close, I could watch, count the beats it took for his eyes to darken, the iris shrinking to a thin ring of green as his pupil dilated. It was the only tell he gave, so minute and intimate.

His other hand landed on my thigh, right above my knee, warm and heavy. I exhaled hard, suddenly very aware of him on a base level. All that coiled power, the ability to destroy me, magic or no, just crowded in on me.

I licked my lips. "I... can't believe we did that."

John's smile went feline and pleased. He swayed forward, falling against me in a very controlled way. "It's only the beginning, Harry." His breath was warm against my lips. "Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to make a request." When I didn't object, he went on, "The next time you kiss me, may I have a little warning? Just enough to get you somewhere more private. Where I can reciprocate thoroughly."

That sounded good to me. Really good. "Sorry for springing it on you." I knew he'd been... looking forward to it, and I picked the middle of skirmish to finally get around to it. "But I needed it then, or we would've died."

I saw curiosity flicker across his features, taking over the want. He couldn't resist knowing more about magic. He was positively greedy for it. "How so?"

"I told you about sunlight. Its energy is very similar to our own. It's a force of life, so theoretically easy for any practitioner to use. But there is one condition." I paused on a sigh as his hand slid along the outside edge of my thigh, tracing the seam of my pants. His fingers pressed insistently. Mm. "You have to be happy."

His hand stuttered to a stop and he fixed me with this look, suddenly naked and surprised, all his pretenses and masks forgotten. "Harry..."

"Yeah," I said. "It's stupid and soppy, but sun-based magic has to come from happiness." I waved a hand, borrowing that easy 'don't worry, just listen' gesture he used so often. "I didn't make the rule, I just have to follow it."

He took hold of my wrist and brought it back to his neck, his hand covering mine as he splayed my fingers over his skin. "And kissing me turned you into the avatar of Helios."

God, he was such a mythology nerd. "Take it as a compliment."

"Oh, I do, Mr. Dresden," he said, leaning into me. His hand returned to brushing up and down my thigh for a second, then slipped under my sweater, fingers rough against the smooth skin near my waist.

"As, you know... riveting as this discussion is?" I tugged him towards me impatiently.

"Yes, I do believe we've danced long enough." That questing hand found my back and John lowered me to lay across the sofa, casual strength at play.

"Going to teach me to tango, John?" He got my legs up on the couch, bent at the knee as he settled between them. He lay his weight to bear on me, only holding himself up on one arm.

"Harry. Quiet."

I jutted my chin at him challengingly. "Make me."

He did, dipping low to slowly run the tip of his tongue over my lower lip. I shut up real fast, tensing my whole body in an attempt to keep still. Key in ignition, turn, boom, my engine turned over just like that.

Before had been frantic and rushed, a last-first kiss. Now, John took his time. He traced the shape of my lips with his tongue, then dryly kissed around my mouth. teasing and light. He was slow, but methodical, like he'd written up a plan for this and was following it step by step, no cutting corners.

For the moment, I let him, a reward of sorts for not being as domineering as he had been before. Not that it wasn't doing anything for me. Slow was just what I wanted after the crazy evening we'd had.

When he finally kissed me properly, I opened right up for his mouth and tongue. He swept past my teeth, pushing against my tongue until I tried to kiss him back. He loved that, taking great care to earn control, the right to take hold of my hair and turn my head just as he wanted, sealing our mouths together.

His other hand palmed my skin under my sweater, taking in the lanky sinewy spread of my chest. The petting motion felt good, heat suffusing through my body. I stretched languidly under him, arching up against him.

John grunted low in his throat, his hand clenching against my skin and nails raking down my chest. That felt awesome and I pushed up against him harder. He was still braced above me and I thought that was a waste of opportunity. It didn't take more than me tugging him with one finger hooked into a belt loop to get him to come down on me, hot and heavy. It forced my legs to spread more, and was worth it for the pressure of him lying on me. I wasn't hard yet, but having John's body to grind up against was helping fix that.

Now I could take him in. Unlike him, I didn't treat seeing someone half-asleep on a massage table as an open invitation. I got my hands under his shirt and along his back where he was all muscle. His skin was smooth and rough in turns, the puckered lines of scars catching under my fingertips. I traced a few, the irregular patterns, trying to figure out each one. A gunshot wound here, a dull gash there, like he'd been thrown backward into something. Several lines that ran almost the width of his broad back.

They weren't stripes, but close enough I huffed out a breath, opening eyes I hadn't realized I'd shut. John was watching me, carefully guarded as I took in the ways he'd been marked through his life. I'd been banged up in the past too, but wizards healed better than vanilla mortals. Scars faded to nothing over time.

There was history etched into John's skin, hidden every day beneath his clothes.

I brought my hands to his front, against the buttons of the shirt. "Can I see?"

He nodded slowly and leaned up so I had room to work down the buttons. I pushed the shirt down his shoulders and let him take it off while I just looked at him.

There was, as I always suspected, a harness there. It was an incredibly detailed custom job, thin leather that fit him like it was part of his skin. It had various holsters and sheaths, but with most of them empty, they lay perfectly flat against his body. There were a few knives still tucked into place though. I passed my hands over them, not sure if they came out first or what.

John sat back on his heels for a moment and undid a little buckle under his arm, then took the whole thing off. He set it and his shirt aside before lying across me again. "Better?"

I didn't say anything, just touched him. Beneath the harness, he retained that natural olive tone, but it was marked with lighter scar tissue. There wasn't as many as I felt on his back, but there was still more than I had. I pressed two fingers to a circular one low on his chest, then reached around and found a twin next to his spine.

"What were you?" I asked quietly.

He smiled humorlessly. "Someone very good at his job."

"Yeah? What'd the guys who weren't good looked like?" I knew the answer before I finished asking: dead. I'd seen him fight, the way he moved, the confidence with which he handled rifles and throwing knives alike. Those were not the things you learned in the Outfit. Those were abilities you brought to it from elsewhere. Likely somewhere military, possibly private contractor. Someone taught John Marcone how to kill.

Probably before he was even John Marcone.

I lifted my eyes to John's face and found him staring at me. Waiting. He was waiting for my reaction.

"Hey," I whispered. "Come on."

He huffed out a breath he'd been holding, relief obvious. "First, though." He caught the bottom of my sweater and pulled it over my head, forcing me to sit up to get it off. He tossed it aside, abandoning fastidiousness to push me back down on the sofa. I thought he was getting bossy again, but he ducked down and pressed his lips to my belly, right beneath my ribcage.

A gasp hitched in my chest, and I swallowed the sound as John's mouth skimmed over my skin, nipping and dryly kissing in random patterns. He worked his way up, making me jerk when he bit my collarbone and sag back against the cushions when he licked the hollow of my throat, dragging the blade of his tongue up to my chin. The damp skin prickled cold in the air and I shivered. It was eerily like being tasted, and I wasn't sure if that disturbed me or not.

He chuckled low in his throat and kissed me, coffee and hazelnut undercut by the taste of my sweat on his tongue and that should not have been hot, but revved me regardless. I dug my nails into his back, arching again even though he was right on top of me and I had nowhere to go. The friction was good, though, and I kept moving, trying to tangle our legs to get more.

"Pushy," John commented, grinding down against me in kind.

"Look in a mirror," I told him, letting my head fall back as I managed to rock against his thigh. Even through his jeans and my slacks, that felt so good and I couldn't quite stop. I wanted... yeah, I wanted.

John lowered his head again, this time to the side of my neck and grazed his teeth against my skin, biting a little harder. I suddenly got a full-sensation flashback to months and months ago, that weird dream with the white tiger and John marking me, branding me with his mouth while I helplessly shuddered beneath.

Now, it felt even better. The dream memory and reality synced up in my head. I grabbed John by his hair and pushed him against my neck again when he started to back off. "Please."

He exhaled hard, shocked, but obeyed. I turned my head to the side, stretching out my neck for him and was rewarded with a mix of bites, suction, and feather-light kisses that took me apart until I was shaking.

Fucking prophetic dreams.

There was a bright red mark no turtleneck could hide by the time John pulled away, licking his lips. "Harry."

"Mmgh." I lifted a hand and pressed it to my neck. The skin stung under my touch, vividly sharp, the feeling shooting down my spine and to my cock. I groaned, just rubbing at it and reveling in that tiny pain.

John kissed my ear before saying in a rough, coarse voice, "At the risk of sounding presumptuous--"

I laughed and twisted to look at him. "John, I swear to God, if you keep up the Gentleman thing all night, you're going to bed alone."

He nodded in understanding. "We can move this to a bed then?"

It was probably my last chance to bail out, but I didn't want it. I didn't even consider it. "Yours. I got a peeping skull in my room."

"I should really set you up with a proper lab space," he noted contemplatively.

I rolled my eyes and shoved him off me. "Come on. Bed. Before you get the urge to do your taxes or alphabetize something."

He climbed off the sofa and offered his hand to me. I took it and let him pull me to my feet. "I didn't mean to imply you didn't have my full attention." He took my hips and pulled me close and I could feel his attention against my hip.

"Okay, wow." I looked down at him, letting that sink in. Undeniably male, so this was going to be different. A less secure man would be freaking out a little.

I just traced a thin scar on his bicep. "So... where is your room?"

It was upstairs, past mine, and down a long hallway with a turn here or there. If you gave me directions to find it, I'd likely get lost for a while first. With the big, empty mansion, it felt remote, far away from everything else in the house, let alone the world outside. I think that was the point.

John stepped away from me as soon as we entered his bedroom suite, his holster and our shirts under his arm. "A moment," he said softly, padding away.

Everything about the room just screamed comfort. There was a bookshelf full of books, arty novels, thrillers, and some law texts. Only about half were in English. There was a big cushy armchair next to it, and the table near it had even more books. There seemed to be mythology, religious tomes, and a few things that I recognized from the Blackstone's supernatural branch. John'd been doing his research.

There was a laptop on the work desk, and I hoped it was off. There was also an armoire, a stereo with stacks of music next to it, and a massive bathroom suite off to the far side of the room.

And a bed. A big bed with study, dark wooden posts, a rich cream comforter, and dark sheets. It looked like it'd be very nice to sleep on. But I couldn't know for sure if I didn't try it. I toed off my shoes and, after two seconds' deliberation, took off my pants as well, letting them lie on the floor, a speck of messiness in John's orderly bedroom.

I climbed onto the bed and sprawled out, sinking into the downy comforter. It was soft against my skin, cool where I was a bit too hot. I shut my eyes and stretched, letting one arm lie lazily bent over my head as I poked at the mark on my neck some more, buzzing pleasantly in my skin.

The bed dipped and I cracked one eye open to watch John sitting next to me on the edge. "For the longest time, I thought I'd have to trip you into bed."

"You calling me easy now, John?"

He danced his palm along my side. "I could fill a book with words to describe you. Easy would not be among them."

"So you're saying I'm difficult." I made a show of turning onto my side, away from him. "The romance is dead."

There was rustling behind me, catching my attention and making me want to drop my charade and face him. I remained resolutely on my side, waiting him out. Eventually, he slipped up against my back, chest against my back, one arm coming around me, and dick nestling against my ass. Hello there. I opened my mouth, not to protest or anything, but to say something, but John's hand suddenly cupped the tent of my boxers and whatever I was going to say morphed into a low groan.

He started rubbing in a leisurely, maddening clockwise circle. "You're a little past playing hard to get, don't you think?"

I really was, considering the way I sucked in a breath through my teeth and pressed back against John, wanting more contact. Doing so got me closer to him, but also got his cock snugly pressed as far into the crease of my ass as the boxers would allow.

John's hand stopped and I think he quit breathing for a moment. Giving me time, if I needed it. And... I wasn't sure if I did. The fact I was in bed with someone with a penis wasn't hard to swallow (shut up) as the fact he dealt drugs, killed people, and thought pissing off an entire Court of vampires was a good business move. I took a second, leaning back against him to let that sink in, letting my anxiousness pass. Then, just to try it, I pushed back on the thick heat of it.

John made a strangled noise and rocked against me. At the same time, his hand got back against me, stroking. "Yes?"

"Yeah, m'good." I wriggled around until I was on my back and could lean up to kiss him.

We kissed slow and deep for a while, John letting me return the favor and explore his mouth like he had mine. The stubble was still catching my attention every time my face brushed his. It was a constant reminder, like that text crawl at the bottom of 24-hour news channels going, male, male, I mean, pretty hot and amazing, but still male. But this close, his cologne was sweet and distracting and I didn't put up a fuss when he rolled on top of me. I'd had him on me earlier. This was the same thing. Just... with less clothes.

John traced the curve of my ear with his lips even as he slid his hand under the elastic of my boxers. "Still yes?"

"You going to ask explicit permission before doing anything? Do you have a bureaucracy fetish?"

"You make terrible jokes when you're nervous," he pointed out.

"I make terrible jokes when I'm not nervous too." He started to say something in reply, but I didn't want to hear it. I reached down myself and started to shuck off my last shred of clothing, ending the argument right there.

There was that winded, heated sound again, low in his throat. Then he kissed me briefly on the mouth, then on my chin, then on my shoulder, then oh okay, if he was offering, sure.

John untangled my boxers from my ankles and threw them off the bed before touching my legs, urging them to bend and spread with him in between. Looking down the bed at him like that was hot enough by itself that my dick twitched, practically waving at him. Stars.

He smiled and took it in hand, dry and a little rough. "Bedside drawer, if you would."

I so would. I scrambled to get at it without moving out of John's grip. It took a moment of searching-- "Have you hid them or what?"

John sighed and crawled back up the bed to look. "I don't exactly require them often."

That was... It was unexpected even though it kind of made sense. I couldn't see John bringing many people back here, deep into the mansion, where the castle became a home for him. Hell, I couldn't imagine him going to bed with anyone either. It was such a trust. If I was an assassin or something, this would be the prefect opportunity to kill him.

My mouth was suddenly dry. How lonely was it to be John Marcone?

I'd have to think about it later. John found what he was looking for and returned to his spot between my legs. He tore open one of the little foil packets and I said something stupid and impulsive, because that's sort of what I do. "I'm clean, you know. Or, well, any wizard would be, by now."

John arched an eyebrow at me. "Explain."

"Wizards, we heal fast, right? That includes sickness like... that. Long-term stuff mundanes have to deal with doesn't work on us." I shrugged one shoulder, trying to seem casual. "I mean, I'm just saying."

I got both eyebrows then. "You cannot sustain venereal diseases."

I flushed red. "Oh Christ, nevermind. Forget I said anything."

"I'm just trying to be sure--"

"You just said that, this is the worst sex ever," I told him earnestly.

"Let's see if I can correct that," John murmured and lowered his head to press the flat of his tongue against the head of my cock, just hot, wet pressure in that one spot. I almost pulled something holding down the instinct to thrust up into his mouth, moaning embarrassingly loud. John made a pleased, smug sound and slowly, slowly took my cock into his mouth. It was so fucking gradual, my breath kept catching over and over until I just couldn't breathe.

"Oh fuck," I gasped once I thought he had me as deep as he could get me. Then he swallowed, let me slide to the back of his throat, and I lost coherency altogether.

Not the worst sex, by any means.

He apparently liked me when I was keening and moaning like that and worked to keep me at that point with the same steady determination he gave everything. He kept one hand pressed to the flat of my stomach, stopping me from getting too enthusiastic with the thrusts. His other hand I lost track of-- I had other things to think about-- until it returned, wet and slick, sliding down from my balls to my ass.

I jerked in surprise, held down by John's arm like he'd be expecting that. "Um."

John lifted his head. "You told me to stop asking."

I did. Right. Because it was all new and strange, every detail burning into my mind with the novelty of it all. But I wasn't panicking. I was okay. And I trusted John.

I propped myself up on my elbows and nodded carefully to him. He held my gaze as his fingers got friendly down there. I couldn't see what he was doing, but I think that helped. I simply felt it all and waited for the moment it was too much and I'd say stop and he would.

I almost objected when the first finger slid in. It was... weird, that stretch. Slick enough that it didn't hurt, but was really obviously there. When I didn't say anything, John licked his way down my cock and swallowed me down again. That made it easier. I dropped back to the bed, shutting my eyes, letting the sensation drown me. In my mind, the weird of his fingers started to mix with the amazing suction and heat of his mouth. The second finger he gave me was long overdue. I reached down to pet his hair and shoulders, uncoordinated. My hips rocked, up into his mouth, back on his fingers, like my body couldn't decide which to go for.

John hummed around my cock, making my spine go all melty and my eyes roll up. Then the suction on my cock was gone and he asked, "How about something else," as his fingers worked somehow deeper into me.

I pulled out of my daze of arousal. I knew without being told what he was asking for. "Uh. I don't think... I mean..."

John nodded once, shelving it. "Some other time."

I stared at him for a moment even as I tried to get his fingers deeper into me, pushing down on them. Why was I saying no? I felt amazing and I wanted more. I had no one to impress here, hidden away in a big bed with the world outside seeming so far away. What did I have to lose?

"Hey..." I nudged him with my knee. "You know what? Go for it. Convince me."

John's face lit up with a grin and he leaned forward to kiss me. In the process, his fingers slipped out and I moaned at the loss. "God, Harry." He ducked his head, took a breath, then whispered, "Turn over. On your front."

I did, and after a moment John urged me to lay across a pillow, kissing down my back as he pushed me down on it. I shivered, trying to relax. My tension had to be clear to him, because John started just running his hands over my skin, soothing along my back and sides. His fingers on the back of my thighs made me tense further, but he just dug his fingers into my muscles and dragged them up and down, calming.

Eventually, I sighed and laid my head down in my arms. When I exhaled, I pushed all my nervousness out of me with some effort.

John's fingers slipped back into me, slicker, more focused on a goal this time. I started to... like it. When John withdrew, I made a soft sound at him, wanting that full feeling back. John shushed me, then put three fingers in.

I had to lift myself on my elbows and push back. I couldn't not do it. Now I started to get the appeal. It was sensitive, but good. It could get better too, I could tell. I just needed more.

John chuckled fondly. "Impatient."

"Shut up and do it," I replied because, yeah, I was.

John took his fingers out. Before I had the chance to mourn them, both his hands were on my hips, his knees pushing my legs further apart, and he was there, pushing in so fucking slowly.

I stopped breathing. I stopped thinking, except that it was nothing like his fingers. II was warmer, more solid, inexorable. His cock pushed in with one smooth, constant thrust until his hips were against my ass and fuck. I whined, pressing my head to the bed and clenching my hands in the sheets and comforter. "John, oh god."

I had no idea how long John had wanted to do this, but I got the feeling it was entirely too long. He tightened his hold on my hips, pulled out, and thrust back in, somehow getting further and my whole body jolted like I'd had an electrical shock. There, that was what the fuss was about. Of course the bastard hit it right away. He just refused to be sub-par at anything, including making me come apart at the seams. I scrambled to brace myself, one hand on the headboard, the other trying to keep a handhold on the sheets as John thrust into me, every stroke as steady and deep as the last.

My hips pushed into the pillow under me, the friction painful but good against my dick. It wasn't quite enough for me though. I got myself together enough to snake a hand under me, pushing up on my knees to lift up to get a hand where I needed it. The extra height just made the angle that much better for John, and my cock was still slick from his mouth, and it was all just too fucking much.

He tipped me forward onto my shoulders, and the loud moaning I was doing got muffled in the bed. Not by much though; I was still loud and begging for it. Over that, I could hear John, his voice ragged and shallow as he kept moving. "That's it, that's it, Harry, knew you'd be... be like this for me, come on."

Possessive and a little brutal, but I came to the uneven cadence of his voice. It felt like orgasm smashed into me, almost violent. I lost my balance, sagging to the bed, and John followed me down. His rhythm broke for a half-second before I spread flat over the sheets and he kept going. His hands on my hips were going to leave bruises and his breath was harsher than I'd ever heard.

He pushed in once, twice, thrice, then fell against me with a strangled groan. I felt him release, wet and hot inside me, and shivered weakly, unable to do anything else.

Stars and stones. That was something.

John spent a long moment lying against my back, panting against my shoulder. It was satisfying to see him as broken down as I was. In fact, the whole thing was just that: satisfying. I was sore and full and sated. I'd spent a lot of magic earlier, but the rush of sex had given me a lot of juice. I shut my eyes, controlling it, pulling it back to me, putting my magic back under my command.

As I did that, John moved, pushing himself up and out of me. I sucked in a gasp as he did and received a long, lingering kiss on my neck in response. "I'll be right back," he whispered.

Stars. I'd done it. I'd done him. Was this my cue to freak out? I didn't feel freaked out, I felt... good. Exhausted, but good.

And I felt a little different, yeah, but not because the sex. I'd seen a new side of John, frantic and desperate, maybe a little feral. He kept a lot locked up inside. And now I was privy to that. Which... okay, I was already in for the long haul, but now I think John had his hooks in me. Or claws, considering.

For the moment, I was fine with that. I stretched and smiled. More than fine.

"That's a nice look on you," John murmured as he came back, sitting on the side of the bed.

I tilted my head to look at him. Still unabashedly naked, flushed, and wonderfully mussed. "You too."

He smirked and moved closer, running a warm, damp towel over my back. I hissed when he swept along my ass, more than slightly sore. He turned me over, did the same along my chest, gentle against my dick, thank god. I was utterly spent and more sensitive than I'd like.

The towel and the ruined pillow disappeared somewhere before John pulled down the covers and got me under them. He slipped in next to me, close. "Well?"

I snorted. "You looking for constructive criticism, John?" I was crashing, hard and fast, because I was male and that's what we did after getting laid.

Unless they were John Marcone, apparently. He crowded my space despite the fact it was a truly massive bed with plenty of room to spare. I was too tired to care, shutting my eyes and rubbing my cheek against the high-thread count pillowcase.

John sighed my name softly, faint but amused, and I felt him press a scratchy kiss against my neck. He curled up against me, cuddling me all of a sudden. His arm was thrown over my side, and while I had him beat height-wise, he was broader and could spoon me easily. Stars, if I wasn't half-asleep, I'd elbow him or something.

I just shifted and got comfortable, settling down. "You gonna let me do all that to you later?"

John hummed, thinking. "Is later on the table?"

I kept my eyes shut. It was somehow safer that way. "You tell me, John. Reds are gone. You say you've got plans. You through with me?"

"Mr. Dresden," he said in that almost-purr he had, territorial and self-assured. Hell, he'd already marked me, I shouldn't've been surprised by the proprietary tone. "I think it's fair to say I've barely even started with you."

"Good." And it was. It really was. "Then later is on the table. A whole lot of later."

Later, with more borderline-suicidal schemes to bring the supernatural world to heel. More existing in that massive grey area that went with being John Marcone's wizard. Being this close to him sent my moral compass spinning out of control. I didn't know what was becoming of me thanks to his influence. I conjured a solar flare to demolish a Red Court Margravine. I was pissing off the White Council more than ever before, choosing a vanilla mortal over them. I was letting John pull me into his home and life, and I had the feeling it was a one-way trip.

But I wanted that power he offered. I wanted the safety and to not have to live month to month worrying about rent and basic needs. I wanted to have time to stay close with the Carpenters, watch over the Alphas, and have the occasional drink with Hendricks. I wanted to protect Chicago.

I wanted John. That didn't stop now that we'd had sex. In fact, I wanted to do it all again. I wanted to see what else we could do. I wanted to know where his sad, quiet smile came from. I wanted to know who he'd been before he was John Marcone. I wanted... him. Basically.

One day at a time.

I had no idea where my life had gone so completely haywire. How I'd gone from living on my own with my skull and my cat and my lonely life to this. It's like I'd made a wrong turn somewhere and ended up in a strange new world. I was happy though, for the first time in a long time. So maybe it wasn't a wrong turn at all.

I shivered as I started to drop off to sleep. "Is it cold in here?"

John lifted his head, looking around. "It is," he mused. "I think you've blown out the heating unit, Harry."

I snickered into the pillow. "Takes two to tango, John."

"True enough, I suppose." He brought the comforter up and over us before curling around me again, welcomely warming me up. "I'll have it fixed tomorrow."

"Mmkay." I settled back down, thinking about tomorrow and what was to come.

One day at a time.

End of Book One of The Matter of Chicago

Author's Notes:

Jesus fucking christ, where to even begin.

Okay, let's start with the future: This story isn't over. Regular readers already know this, but I'll just make it more clear; Book One is finished. There will be a Marcone POV interlude, then Book Two will start. Denarians, White Court, and Fae arcs are coming. More on John's history. So look forward to that.

This is the Matter of Chicago series now, ladies and gents. I have two continuity errors to fix in other things the road to hell is paved with (thanks to those who pointed them out!), some editing to do, then that will be posted to AO3 for all of you who wanted downloadable versions. Then, onto putting out your fires with gasoline. Fuck you, David Bowie's awesome.

I need to thank people, because this was a group effort. First off, The Wonder Beta,

grenegome. She's been with me from the start. She's made every single chapter of this story better through her amazing beta'ing and suggestions. Many a time I flailed at her and she talked me though my panic. I am hugely indebted to her, you have no idea. I am still stunned she hasn't run away screaming from me yet. I anticipate she will in Book Two. If not, someone needs to put her up for fucking sainthood, I'm serious. Grene, darling, you've made me a better writer. Thank you.

lightgetsin. Oh my god. LGI is an amazing writer and I am in fucking awe of her ability to write Marcone. It was very influential in my own writing. And towards the last third of the fic, where I kept hitting walls and just couldn't make certain chapters work, she looked them over and gave me phenomenal feedback that got my ass in gear and made shit happen. Her insight is invaluable. Thank you, LGI.

And last but not least, ALL OF YOU. OH MY GOD. I have the greatest readers ever. I am so honored so many of your stuck around this long. The ones who left comments ever chapter, you rock so hard. It was great to be able to gauge audience reactions like that and take the feedback into account when writing. It helped me manipulate the hell out of you all, 8D. I hope you all continue to stick around. I will do my best to give you the best story I am capable of, I promise.

Not to play favorites, but

lynnmathews, your feedback on that one chapter was extremely helpful and your comments helped solidify John's character arc in Book Two. I hope you'll like it.

Um, what else... I think two of you wanted DVD Commentary of a chapter or two? I have no idea what the demand for that is. If you want, lemme know and suggest a chapter or two! If enough folks want it, I'll do it.

Also, I think I talked about a quick dirty Bakery AU fic I might do? I'm not sure if there's any demand for something like that anymore, given the kinkmeme's existence, but I'll think about it.

And I miiiight do podfic of Marcone's Interlude. Maybe.

I think that's all, folks. Thank you, every one of you, for your time and enthusiasm. I'm truly touched.

we can raise cities or raze them, it whispers

and the only difference is the spelling

FIC: other things the road to hell is paved with [24/24] COMPLETE BABY

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