Play the Game | Modern AU | Heather

[Heather O`Roarke]

"You don't understand them," growled Heather as she moved up her hips towards his questing fingers. It wasn't as if she was in a habit of making daily confession to them, but her brothers had ways of finding out, trusting other men as they trusted themselves around women which was to say not at all. "They are obnoxious busy bodies."

 

Her knickers were damp, and as his fingers slipped inside them, the moist heat that caused this was becoming clear. "Oh God," Heather gasped, pleasure shooting through her already overexcited body. While she was no stranger to fleshly pleasures by own hand, this was the first time somebody else touched her there. It both scared and thrilled her. The concern about her brothers faded in the mist of lust. Her breath quickened and blushes of embarrassment had long since become red patches of arousal on her cheeks.

 

It was quite difficult to concentrate on anything let alone giving Beverly pleasure in return, but she wouldn't want him to stop. Hesitantly the redhead moved her hand up and down his length, without rhythm to her strokes and afraid to hurt him. Her other hand had managed to get the last of the buttons, and she pushed down the jeans further down his hips to make access easier "This," she gasped, "I don't know how to do this. You need to show me how to best please you. I've never..I've never done this before." Oh please, don't let him stop, she begged silently.

 

Right now Heather's thoughts were only going to some heavy petting and snogging, her inexperience not allowing her to see how this making out quickly would become more than just fooling about between friends. All she knew was that it felt so good and it should not stop.

 

Meanwhile, elsewhere, an increasingly frantic debate through whatsapp had not stopped even if Heather had switched off her smartphone. It moved to text and phonecalls, as various brothers started to take action to interfere in her life once again. At the other end of Oxford Clarence reported from the training hall that Percy "was taken care off" and that a janitor had seen a redhead depart on the back of a triumph. This led to various expletives from London on her irresponsible behaviour, while Edmund was rounding up his mates at the local bar for a search and rescue mission. In vain Adrian, amidst his studybooks cautioned his brothers to some calm saying their sister would be irate at any interference, to which Henry, on his way to London City airport, testily replied that he would show the little lady precisely how irate he felt on her backside. Darren was just waking up at the other side of the Ocean after a night of partying in L.A. only managing a vague "Whut? What has she done this time?"

[Robert Saint-Leger]

Beverley had been in a wonderful land of kissing her neck while stroking her wet, tender, swollen flesh, and pushing his ample manhood through her hand (despite her lack of rhythm), when she said she'd never done this before.

 

His head pulled back from his kissed, his questing finger slowing but not stopping. He throbbed in her hand. He swore he could feel it.

 

This? What this? Stroking?

 

It did not immediately sink in that she meant she had not done any of this. Lots of his blood was already diverted from his brain. He sat back on his haunches for a moment and smiled down at her. He had no problem instructing her in how to stroke him.

 

"Here," he said, putting his hand around hers on his very needy length. "Squeeze rather tight." He bit the inside of his lip as he moved her hand at a good starting pace, showing her how to twirl a bit over the head. "Mmm yes, s'easy, just like that." Ooo, yes, it felt good.

 

He moved his hands to take off her shirt so the he could commence with the next level of petting.

[Heather O`Roarke]

Heather was wearing a cardigan and a blouse, so all it took for Beverlery was opening buttons. That of course might prove a challenge with lustfilled fingers.

 

Heather meanwhile was relieved, no judgement, no trouble. Instead she was glad to get some instruction. "Like this?" she murmured as she moved her hand up and down with a little twist, while her other hand couldn't help but playing with his balls. New terrain and so interesting. She made sure to squeeze somewhat, though that felt odd.

 

As Beverley didn't question further, Heather assumed he was now aware things were about to get messy. Really she didn't want to think about it too much either.

[Robert Saint-Leger]

He bit his lower lip and then released it. "Ooo, yes, mm, just like that."

 

Reaching his arms on the outside of hers so as not to disrupt her, he went through her buttons with surprising dexterity, even though two or three hitched on him, making his mouth quirk to one side in concentration.

 

When he finally finished them, he was quite mesmerized taking in the look of her breasts, even with her bra still on. His lips parted a bit and he pushed it up until the nipples and round bottoms of her breasts popped out.

 

A little exhale that might have held a but of a chuckle rolled out. He lowered his mouth to them as Heather stroked him and played with him, pushing into her hand in best time with her unsteady rhythm as he could manage.

 

That lasted only so long before Bevs turned his attention back to her jeans, intent to take them off and then discard his own that were bunched around his thighs. Just the scent of her was driving him mad, and his cock was screaming to dive inside of her. He was already imagining spreading her legs wide and finding a home between them with eager thrusts.

 

Another groan escaped him.

[Heather O`Roarke]

Heather arched her back into the pleasure he was giving her. His lips on her breasts was so distracting that at first the further lowering of her jeans held no significance. It was restricting their movements, so off with them. She lifted her hips obediently.

 

Heather rested up on her elbows as Beverley hastily rid himself of unnecessary cloth. This was all going so fast and she felt in over her head a little, yet lust had her spell bound. It was just such an overwhelming feeling that thinking of consequences through the hazy mist was difficult. The redhead swallowed, licking her lips nervously.

 

"You will be careful, won't you Bevsy," she managed with a little groan as he returned to her.

[Robert Saint-Leger]

He lowered himself on top of her again, his elbows resting alongside her shoulders, kissing at her neck playfully as she spoke. Then his lips went lower until the went down the crest of her breast.

 

"If you mean to use a johnny, of course," he murmured against a nipple, before kissing it with his lips and grinning up at her.

 

Bevs still had yet to figure out that she was a virgin, laying under him in just panties and that he, in his naked glory, might be somewhat of a frightening novelty. It was not precisely as if he had planned this.

 

Carpe Diem and all that.

 

And so he was shameless as he ran his cock up against her panties, sliding over the thin fabric repeatedly, groaning out his lust as he leaned further to catch her lips again.

[Heather O`Roarke]

"A johnny?" Heather gasped weakly, as her breasts demanded more attention than her brain. What on earth was a johnny and why would one use it? It was the quite of slang vocabulary she was not quite used to yet, not even as the editor of a lit mag reading all kinds of smut.

 

Her protests died upon his lips and she found herself pushing up her hips again, wanting the friction he was causing with his rubbing cock. The pleasure was numbing her mind to a serious degree. Her pristine white knickers were soaked, but she no longer cared about that embarrassing fact. Beverly didn't seem to mind in the least.

 

Reasonable protest was swiped away as she kissed Beverley passionately, drowning themselves in lust, letting out small mews. Carpe Diem. Her hands travelled down and found his naked buttocks. Oh my. She had never done something so wicked in her life! I'm a shameless hussy.

[Robert Saint-Leger]

Beverley did not mind her being wet in the least. In fact. it urged him onward, certain that she wanted this just as much as he did. Sex was such a good cure for anything.

 

He groaned into her kiss again as she grabbed his arse cheeks, rubbing against her with a strong thrust of his long length. The panties needed to go. Now.

 

Reluctantly he pulled back from her and left a few kisses on her stomach until his hands could begin pulling down the wet fabric. He looked up at her with a mischievous little gleam in his eyes.

 

Had they darkened with lust? Yes, perhaps.

 

His fingers teased down her legs as he removed them, tossing them with a happy grin before moving back over her and reaching into his nightstand to pull out a condom. He left the packet on the bed, turning his attention back down her body, little growls of pleasure coming from his lips as they laid kisses and licks back to this newly exposed present.

 

Of the school of men who wished repeat customers for his attentions, he knew that fiddling with a woman's punaani was key. He kissed her thighs and rubbed at her slickened folds gently .

 

"Mm, you are so wet..." It clearly pleased him. He pushed his hardness into the mattress and then let one finger slip inside her, caressing her little button with his thumb.

[Heather O`Roarke]

Obediently Heather lifted her hips so that her knickers quickly rolled down her legs and disappeared. It was all rather frightening. Her eyes grew large when she saw the condom he so casually reached for and putting it on the bed, realizing only now what it was. A johnny. Suffering a bout of nerves she closed her eyes, his attentions causing her to distracted.

 

Then he put his finger inside her and her eyes flew right open again at the foreign feeling. "Bev," Heather gulped, thinking this was going way to fast. Her hands reached for his shoulders to stop him but he was out of reach. Then all she could do was groan. Rubbing just there was divine. "That is just so good," was all that she managed, all thought of stopping him gone for the moment as she unashamedly clenched at his finger. It would take more than a finger to lose her virginity, the seal hidden deeper in that tunnel he was exploring.

[Robert Saint-Leger]

Beverley's aroused chuckle was quiet, "Mm, do you like that?" Her hips rose to him, and he knew she liked it by the wetness coming from her. He rubbed at her clit with his thumb and pushed his finger in and out of her.

 

"You are so tight," he complimented, and he really meant it, even if he oft said it just because. He left a few kisses up her body, still continuing his ministrations with his hand, and then wrapped his lips around a nipple, suckling happily.

 

His hard on pushed against her lower thigh, promising of the desire to move yet higher. A drop of wetness was already covering his tip, leaving a little trail on her leg as he twitched and pushed against her soft skin in little, unconscious thrusts.

 

After a short while, unable to hold himself off even further, he sat back on his haunches and reached for the Johnny, opened it, and prepared to roll it down over himself.

 

 

(OOC - trying to sneak in a few smuts!)

[Heather O`Roarke]

"Ooh yesss," the redhead groaned her pleasure. Yet there was a brief interlude, allowing her somewhat to wake up from her daze. With large eyes Heather watched what Beverly was doing, gulping softly as she saw the size of him.

 

"That is never going to fit," she worried, still vaguely uncommitted to going through with it. She licked her lips. Yet stopping was impolite wasn't it? Heather did not want to be that kind of girl.

 

"Is this really a good idea?" she squeaked nonetheless.

[Robert Saint-Leger]

Beverley let out his amusement with a cocky grin and a huskier little laugh than he would usually have. His body was ready for some more physical exertion, soreness forgotten. The only thing he could think about was the pleasurable pressure mounting.

 

"Oh it'll fit," he promised, kissing her again, his chest pressing against her nipples. He was a bit used to that reaction. "You'll like it." He kissed down by her ear, the wrapped head of him bobbing against her entrance.

 

He balanced himself on one forearm and elbow and reached his hand down between her legs again, teasing her clit and groaning as he kissed at her neck. "It seems like a fine idea to me." He pulled on her lower lip. "Do you not want me?" he asked, with a hint of a pout in his tone. He took himself in his hand and rubbed the head against her wet folds, letting out another groan. He pushed against it a bit, hoping to entice her and quiet any of her fears.

 

"Mmm, I won't say a word if that's what you're worried about." He so wanted to push himself in, just a little bit even, as if just a taste of his cock would cause her to want all of it. He was a young man with a young man's sexual intellect after all.

[Heather O`Roarke]

It was her excited body, rather than his words, that decided the issue. Heather groaned as the unfamiliar touch, the pressure, made her move up her hips eagerly again, wanting to be every closer in a way she couldn't fully understand yet.

 

"No," the redhead moaned as Beverley pouted at her and whispered reassurances "I know you never would." I'm being silly about this, she blushed, feeling out of breath.

 

Her shaky hands clutched at his shoulder for support, and Heather found herself opening her legs a little wider to ease his access. His teasing of her flesh just needed more and more, becoming insatiable.

 

"Just be careful," she shyly begged "I really want to but I'm scared, that's all."

[Robert Saint-Leger]

He knew he was big, and it still had not crossed his sex-addled mind that she was a virgin, so he said, "It may only hurt for a moment. I'll go slow." He kissed her cheek.

 

That usually assuaged the fears about size, knowing that he wouldn't slam it in to the hilt repeatedly in the first two minutes.

 

He pushed himself into her just far enough that he could take his hand away. So bloody tight! Good God! His jaw clenched and he turned his head a bit to the side at the surge of sensation from her clenching down on just the head of him.

 

Letting out a progressive groan, he moved into her very slowly, actually having to use a bit more push that he usually would; she obviously had a very petite punaani. It was like a vice!

 

"Oooooooooo." In further and further until about half his length was in, stretching her and sending a pressure right into the base of him that curled up the back of his spine. "Almost there," he breathed, pulling on her bottom lip and smiling.

 

It was the next little bit he began to push that the head of his cock hit bottom way, way too soon. His brow furrowed just a bit before he realized precisely what that was.

 

"Ho, oh, y-you, you're a...a virgin? Erm, were a virgin. Uh, are half a virgin?" he sputtered, suspended on his forearms above her, his chest pressing against her breasts, her legs splayed open around him, and the head of his cock knocking at her cherry while the rest of her squeezed the shit out of him.

 

Should he break it?

[Heather O`Roarke]

A muffled groan came out of Heather, as she hid her face against his shoulder. Oh, but this was such a new sensation. She felt herself stretch, almost painfully so, yet her body adapted and her legs wrapped around his hips.

 

"Bevsy," the redhead gasped as he filled her more and more, the pressure building as he filled her "Please go slow."

 

"I .. I .. yes, I know, I am," Heather managed in a subdued, squeezed voice, refusing to meet his eyes as she buried her face in the arch of his neck. He was just short of hurting her but it was not entirely comfortable either.

 

Her green eyes were large, as she she briefly looked up to him. She was frightened alright, in his ears she whispered "Please, Bevsy, don't stop. It is too late to stop. Take me to heaven."

[Robert Saint-Leger]

"Ooohhh," God is she so tight! His eyes squeezed shut as his lips pursed out the syllables, his chin pushing up in what was unabashed enjoyment and absorption in the feeling.

 

She confessed her virginity and buried her face in his neck, her wet walls gripping him, beckoning him in.

 

Beverley did not remember what this felt like, being with a virgin. For a moment, he felt like an absolute arsehole.

 

"I wouldn't've..." He let out an uncomfortable chuckle. "Well I would have...if I'd known...oohh..." he had to pause for a minute. "Said something romantic and shit."

 

But she was urging him not to stop, looking up at him wantonly, so his guilt could not last very long. "All right then."

 

He pulled back slowly and then forced himself to push slowly back in, but it was with enough insistence that he broke through her. The progression further inward had his mouth drop open and his head tilt up, his shoulders pulling together. Not capable of thinking of her discomfort right then, his hips pressed forward against her as far as she would give, to see how much of his he could get in. Almost down to the hilt.

 

His body pressed against her, he could feel her throb around his length, and groaned loudly.

[Heather O`Roarke]

His words were best ignored for they were not flattering indeed. The writer in Heather hid, instead concentrating on the feelings that she so much had wanted to experience.

 

A painful burning sensation, with an acute pinch, spread through Heather's body, and she nearly cried out, muffling the sounds against his shoulder as she didn't want to be a spoil sport. A few tears were pressed out and wetted his skin. For a moment all she could do was throb along his length which was overbearing. With his decisive moment the pleasurable melting of her body was gone for a moment, concentrating instead on the pain.

 

Yet, a few moments later, she was already accommodating to Beverley's size, stretching and stretching, with a painful groan. Heather longed for the pleasant intense feeling to return, but right now was a little out of it. She wanted to voice her thoughts, urging him to get one with it and finishing this, but she felt unable.

[Robert Saint-Leger]

Beverley's blood was not in his brain, and so he did not have much of a censor about what came out of his mouth. He had been trying to convey that he would have been gentler with his approach to the entire thing from talk to finish if he had known, but it had not come out that way. Thankfully, he was too lost in sensation to realize how it sounded.

 

He felt her muffled cries against his shoulder and then her tears as he was buried tightly inside her. Panting some, he pulled his head back and kissed her softly.

 

"Don't cry. I'll be gentle. It won't hurt too long," he promised, smiling and pulling back enough that she could see that. "I'll try and make you feel good." He kissed closer to her lips, almost flirtatiously or encouragingly.

 

"Oooh," he moaned, against her skin, as he pulled back slowly and then pushed back in, setting as slow a pace as he could while she stretched and wet more to accommodate him. He tried his best to rub himself against her clit as his hips pressed against her.

 

"You are lovely," he breathed, pulling her lower lip between his. This was tortuously slow.

[Heather O`Roarke]

The tears still wet her cheeks, his kisses around her mouth tasted salty. Yet his grinding and rubbing slowly did their work and Heather found her hips moving out of their own accord. Her nails slowly let go of his shoulder, and instead fingers buried themselves in his brown curls to encourage him.

 

"Bevsy," the redhead groaned, feeling a growing urgency despite the burning sensation that hadn't totally abated. His words were like a balm to her soul, not used to men telling her she was beautiful. She wanted to ask him to say more but it felt silly. Instead she opened her eyes and looked up at him, wide dark green eyes, full of wonder. Was this how it was supposed to feel?

 

"Tell me what to do Beverley, " Heather begged shyly as she attempted to move with him.

[Robert Saint-Leger]

Mmm, oh God! Her fingers wound in his hair, and he felt his head tipping back a bit as the pleasure pulled all the muscles in his back tight. It tripped a groan to fall out his throat, unabashedly loud and hitched.

 

His brain was bathed in the thought of her tightness. His guilt about her virginity had abated with her eagerness. If he was in his right mind, he would have thought that it was obvious it was time for the v-card to be cashed in if she was this into it. He was instead only capable of the sensations of sliding into her and the feel of her nipples moving along his chest with his movements.

 

"Do?" A groan. "You're doing it right," he said, obviously not capable of being very eloquent. "Erm, grind up against me more?" Another groan. "Whatever feels good?" he grunted out.

 

Meanwhile, he was doing his very best to last long enough that it was remembered as more pleasurable than painful, but he had little hopes for getting her off. Not even he could change the reality that orgasms on the first time were not common, even if he tried to with every thrust.

 

It was difficult, though. He kept speeding up and then having to force himself to slow down to hold himself off, distracting himself with kissing her. It was not long before he finished, pressed tightly inside of her, pausing to let out another pointed groan before giving one last thrust with a satisfied grunt.

 

Then he immediately went to breathing heavily, heart thundering in his chest as he kissed her forehead and laid his head next to hers, braced on his elbows still.

[Heather O`Roarke]

"Am I?" Heather asked shyly, and moved against him again, the friction pleasant and calling out for more. It was exciting to see Beverly so out of control, giving himself over to the moment without a care in the world. It made her feel powerful.

 

However it was over too soon for her. The redhead felt him grow larger and give out a final grunt before he collapsed. Then he covered all of her, and there was just the sound of his his panting breath, and the soft wooshing sound of a nearby helicopter that interrupted the tones from the playlist.

 

Helicopter?

[Robert Saint-Leger]

Beverley was bathed in orgasm like a warm haze settling around him and making little bits of his skin tingle. He tried to steady his breathing, but it was hard when each breath took in the scent of their mingling. Going soft inside her, he could feel yet a strong pulse and wiggled himself around a bit making a "mmm" sound like this was as effecting as any drug.

 

He slid out of her, and he did not, at first notice any strange sounds. He pulled off the condom and deftly dropped it in the bin by his bed and then returned his attention to her.

 

"I'm sorry that I...couldn't," he said, a bit sheepishly, about getting her off. "I was, erm, not prepared for, well, you know." Finding out she was a virgin mid-shag? Yes, that.

 

"I would, erm, usually say I would try again or pleasure you other ways, but it's a bit, well, unexpectedly messy." He frowned as he heard a louder helicopter noise, distracted from the sweet ginger.

 

"What the bloody hell is that? A new crew?" He moved fully off the bed and pulled on a pair of loose sweatpants with their team logo on them and went to move the curtains just a bit to peep outside.

[Heather O`Roarke]

Messy. Yes, that was just the description that Heather might have used. Sticky red blood was spread between her legs and had made a crimson spot on the white blanket. Her body was sore and while the experience had been interesting, she didn't feel like an immediate repeat. She propped hreself up on her elbows to look at the mess and sighed. No boy wants to know how a woman looks just as her period starts.

 

"I am sorry.." she started to say.. when her attention was drawn to the helicopter sound.

 

"What? Oh no, he didn't," the redhead cursed under her breath as she jumped from the bed, grabbing a blanket to wrap around herself. She wobbled towards the window to peek over Beverley's shoulder, then with a curse moved to open the window.

 

"That better not be you Edmund Hamilton," she called out over the courtyard, as one by one marines were dropping down a rope from the helicopter over head "This is not funny. You ought to be ashamed of yourself, bothering your baby sister like that."

 

"Heather Abigail Hamilton, that better not be you, in all but a blanket," an ominous voice boomed through the courtyard.

 

"Shit," Heather cursed as she instinctively withdrew from the window "It is Henry."

[Robert Saint-Leger]

"The bloody fuck!" Beverley cursed, leaving out 'the' merely from sheer shock. "A fucking helicopter, Heather?" His hazel eyes were wide. Beverley's mouth open and closed like a fish as words were exchanged.

 

"You're barking up the wrong tree, mate!" Beverley called back, growing some guts to stand up for her. "I'm not the one who tried to force myself on her, nor the one who just announced to the whole bloody campus that my baby sister was naked and who with!"

 

For fuck's sake. Did Hamiltons not think ahead at all.

 

"Fine spectacle. I was only being a good friend. She's an adult, she can do as she wishes. We're not living in the 17th century." Women were not the property of men, after all.

[Heather O`Roarke]

Heather gave an apologetic glance at Beverley. This was not what he had bargained for. "My brothers are fucking idiots," she hissed by way of apology "They really do still live in the 17th century, sorry."

 

Henry was a problem. He was stiff, officious and a peer in the House of Lords, which Heather tended to ignore most of the time. Just a bunch of old people really. Henry was part of that old traditional part of England that Heather had left behind.

 

A hand went through her red curls "Uh, that is the RAF seek and rescue troop my brother is part of," the redhead gave by way of explanation "And that is my brother Henry, Lord Elmdon, who.. ah.. is coming up the stairs right now I think." Which meant he intended to do bodily harm unless she stopped him. Frantically Heather sought for her clothes. Where were her panties?? She made a grasp for it in the pile of stuff near the bed.

 

"I am sorry Bevsy," Heather gasped as she was jumping up and down, one leg in her jeans, sans knickers "I think it is best if I open the door next. For fuck sake, don't fight over this with my brothers. We have a game Saturday that I need you to be fit for." She tried to project calmness as she wriggled into the jeans "I will handle this.

[Robert Saint-Leger]

"Well he will be quite sorry after this, because misusing military power is not precisely sanctioned, I wouldn't think," the viscount grumbled, still shirtless. He had nothing to hide and was not ashamed. He stood there in his sweatpants and as Heather searched for her clothes and wiggled into her jeans, Beverley was intent on something else altogether.

 

He aimed the webcam on his computer so that it would catch what happened in the room between them if her stupid brother tried to hurt him. Not that he couldn't throw a fist as well as the next bloke, but his hands were important, as Heather mentioned. He couldn't afford to break one. He wouldn't be able to compete for the school or in any of the regattas. It would seriously set him back.

 

With a click he turned the music off, pretending that is what he had been doing.

 

"Don't worry, I won't. My hands are worth more than his face." Of course, he had typical testosterone bravado, puffing himself up as the better man. Plus, it's not like they could shoot him, the military was not really allowed personal firearms either. "You could always tell him you would really get booted if you were responsible for the star stroke getting injured. Think of the dishonor of the whole university. You know how they feel about rowing."

[Heather O`Roarke]

"Hey," Heather protested as she managed to close the zip of her jeans, always a struggle "Thanks for being such an honourable knight about it." With a sigh she pulled the hoodie over her head, hearing the feet of many heavy boots on the stairs. Just a few seconds she reckoned.

 

Her green eyes widened as she then saw the mess on the bed. Dear lord. "Quick, pull off the bedding," she begged, starting to pull on one side already "They don't need to see this."

 

There was no knock on the door. Instead it slammed open with violence, cracking under the force. Two redheads, one dressed immaculately in a suit, the other growling in his camouflage trousers and blue jacket, stood in the dooropening, breathing heavily.

[Robert Saint-Leger]

"You are the one who said not to do anything stupid," he protested, "And my fist is worth more than his face. Plus, it would be a poor defense of you to even need to protect you from the insults of your own brothers." He was supposed to defend her from pervy coaches, not her own brothers. That would be worth something.

 

Instead of pulling the sheet off his bed, which would take far too long as he was a dunce with such housekeeping things, he tossed a hoodie over it and then threw his blanket back over the top of it too.

 

"I do hope you cleared your barging in her with the University," Beverley said, standing in an area neither blocking his webcam or standing outside it's frame. He raised an eyebrow, standing there shirtless, in his team sweatpants. "You descended on the wrong bloke anyway; the one you want is probably still at the boathouse."

[Heather O`Roarke]

Nobody ever said Heather was consistent in her demands of her lover. Right now she was just staring down her two brothers. If looks could kill there would be two dead bodies.

 

"You are embarrassing me," she succinctly told them "Please go away. If you need somebody to rough up, go find that idiot.." she muttered under her breath by now, not seeing any movement in her brothers.

 

"Did he touch you," Edmund demanded aggressively as he stepped forward, chin first, eyes piercing Beverley. Henry held back, taking in the entire scene, moving his gaze towards his sister "Heather, will you explain yourself?"

 

"This may have passed you by Henry but in the 21st century I'm allowed to have my own sex life," Heather growled, making both her brothers wince at the word sex. NOT the thing they wanted to associate with her. Her chin rose higher than that of Edmund "It really is none of your business. I was recovering just nicely from a horrid evening when you two decided to play Neanderthals."

 

Edmund so much wanted to hit Beverley, but his sister glare stopped him somewhat. "Loser," he muttered at the jock.

 

For a moment it looked like Henry or Edmund might physically accost Heather too, especially after her stern words. "Well, it ends here Heather. Get your stuff and come along," Henry uttered disgusted in the end, wanting to bring this stand off to an end.

 

Heather turned to Beverley, a half apologetic look on her face, but also looking for something, a confirmation, a hope, who was to say.

[Robert Saint-Leger]

"Bugger off, mate, what are you twelve," Beverley said, as her one brother called him a loser.

 

The elder one called her to heel as if she was a dog, and Beverley just did not like that. Post workout and post-sex his testosterone levels were soaring.

 

"The lady asked you to leave," he hissed. "Sister or not, she is a grown woman. I've obviously not done anything untoward to her. There's some other chap you should go harass who did wish to blackmail her, and you should let her do as she pleases to do, or you're just as good as him, trying to force her to do what you will. Besides, it's my room, and I wish you to leave. I'd imagine security or the police are on their way here by now, and unless you'd like the lovely video I've been taking of this fiasco to hit the evening news and tabloids, I'd suggest you do as she says." He brazen pointed at Heather and stuck out his chin defiantly.

 

It might have been different if situations were reversed and it were his sister.