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Triple Mocha Fudge Chocolate Swirl on Chocolate Ice Cream
Topic Started: Oct 2 2010, 12:40 AM (536 Views)
Silas Matthews
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Lord of the Dance

The ball was packed with people. He had actually used that as one reason his father should let him attend. In a place that crowded, how would he possibly be in danger of anything? There would be healers, doctors, teachers, friends, all there in case he became ill. There was nothing to worry about. And after hours of lecture, Silas was finally granted the opportunity to partake in one of his favorite events of the year. Masquerade Ball.

Catching his reflection in the window of The Three Broomsticks, Silas had to pause and smile appreciatively of his festive wardrobe. Black robes with hints of orange at the cuffs and collar. An obnoxiously orange mask that hid half of his face; half of the mask was hidden by the rogue chunks of dark hair that hung into his face. His reflection waved at him, and he offered it a dramatic wink before entering the pub.

The grand ballroom was vastly different from its usual homely appearance. Large, brightly lit, mellow music… ugh, that old codger shite they played, like they were trying to send people to their graves with it. Horrible. He’d have to change it up. Talk with the deejay, see if he couldn’t get them to play something with a bit more of a beat.

As he made his way over to the area sectioned off for the deejay, Silas noticed that Slant had decided to attend the ball. In his mouth, he had a single red rose. But that was the last thing that had drawn attention to the caretaker. The sewage-water colored dress robes and scraggled hair that seemed to be kept curly by some goopy molding cream spoke for themselves. The way that he was searching through the ballroom gave Silas a bit of a scare. Their dance lessons hadn’t exactly gone according to plan; Silas hadn’t meant to get Slant trapped on top of the astronomy tower with a very agitated acromantula baby… but, it had happened, and Silas hadn’t seen the caretaker since.

Silas put a hand to the side of his face and bent at the knees. Master of disguises. He slunk over to the deejay box and leaned against the wall, facing away from the dance floor, hoping to avoid Slant’s surly glare. If he had any luck at all, Kerrigan wouldn’t be found and Silas would never have to see how Slant chose to interpret the vague dance moves he’d taught him.

He drew the attention of the deejay with a swift, intoned “Oi.” Glaring at the deejay’s stuck up finger (signifying to wait, not to fuck off), Silas watched the whirling records that spun around in the air, attached to no equipment. There were dozens of them, hanging in the air; some turned in circles, some bounced up and down, and they were all controlled by a mohawked, dark-skinned man wearing something resembling a kilt.

There was no way that all this drab music was being played by all those magical gadgets. He must not have been using them right. So, thinking that he had all the deejay skills of a master, Silas reached over with his finger and poked one of the animated records. It came to life, bringing a new beat to the symphony already playing. Guitar. Or... something. Silas really didn't know. He wasn't musically inclined - just with his unparalleled dance skills. He bobbed his head for a moment, ignoring the glare from the kilted deejay. Reached toward another little record, he spun it with his finger, ears perking up. A thumping beat. His foot started to tap.

Taking a moment, he let his gaze travel the crowd of dancers. They were speeding up. Was that… his sister in that dress? Nah, couldn’t be. She wouldn’t wear that.

He couldn’t tell anyone from Adam as he watched couples sway to and fro. It was like watching marionettes. Totally lacking any real rhythm. Like they were under an enchantment. Dull.

“Make the music a bit faster,” Silas told the deejay as he stooped down from the box and headed toward the dance floor. Already, the beat was thumping a bit louder. Less like a waltz, more like… south London at night.

Silas made his way around the dancing couples, sucking in his stomach as he passed through the crowd. Of course, he was so slender already that sucking it in did nothing, and he still knocked in to people. Luckily, the steady beat of the music was causing them to move in all kinds of ridiculous ways. No, he needed to show them how it was done.

Standing in what would be the middle of the dance floor, Silas raised his hands up in the air in a stiff, held motion. His head fell back. Waiting until three… two… one…

In a slick movement, Silas brought one of his hands down to his side, and then the other. His face was staring straight at a bird in lavender robes, eyes narrowed. Seductive. On the third beat, he turned his head to the side and nodded along with the strumming of the bass. Figuring he had it pretty well locked in his mind, Silas then began the footwork.

Intricate movements that really had no style; just back and forth, around and about, spinning his body all over the place like he was a top. His eyes were squeezed shut as he shunted himself left and right, bringing his hands over his head and slapping them together.

When he opened his eyes, finally, he noticed another person dancing with him. In stunning robes of peacock blue. Silas was impressed. He seemed to move with a learned grace; flailing limbs in all the right places, feet moving steadily to the cadence that the deejay was supplying. Silas nodded his head at the stranger, dimpled grin on his face.

And then it was his turn to stun the lesser skilled dancers that had created a circle around them. Thump, thump, thump; the tempo plucked at his body, moving it of its own accord. In a flash, his hands moved over his head, back and forth, fingers spread to capture the jazzy feel that was coursing through him.

As the beat paused, so did Silas’s movements. One, two, three, four… and it picked up just as quickly as it had ended. Silas slid from foot to foot and thrust his arms out at the same time; as if he were running in place. It was brilliant. His face lit up with a crinkle at his eyes. That Pepper Up Potion was really working wonders for him tonight.

Pausing on a lull in the music, Silas let his long arm outstretch to signal the well-dressed stranger that it was, once again, his turn. The only thing that betrayed his friendly stance was the ghost of a challenging smirk on his face.
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Allison Shapiro
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There was no mistaking a mischievous gleam coming from Finn Lancaster’s eyes. It reeked of the promise for humiliation. He stepped back from her, but it hardly made the knot that had formed in her stomach unclench. She waited with wide eyes. Any second, he was going to ask her to rumba or hokey-pokey. Or something equally mortifying.

“Can’t dance alone, now can I angeleyes?”

Allison’s words came out quickly, like a stampede. Each syllable trying to reason with Finn at the exact same time. “No-no, you won’t need me for dancing. I’m just-”

But he wasn’t even listening. His face turned to watch another unimpressive dancer, swinging his body about the floor with what looked like practice swiveling. He was lanky, but managed to keep his flailing limbs in some semblance of a formation. At least he looked prettier at dancing badly than Finn did. Wasn’t saying much, though.

“Poor bugger actually thinks he’s good out there,” she heard Finn murmur and looked at him with raised eyebrows. There were no words. He didn’t actually think he could do better than this child, did he? She opened her mouth to attempt to ask, but was cut off by warm, soft lips against hers. She was stock still. Her mind more blank than it had been. She couldn’t even tell if it was the drink that was making her head spin, or Finn Lancaster’s rather bold kiss.

His stupid smirk did nothing to help her. She still couldn’t form sentences or words or any type of movement whatsoever. Her brain was on pause. Fuzzy and muted. From somewhere well outside of her tunnel vision and cotton-ball hearing, she heard him tell her something about luck and lads, but nothing definite.

She wasn’t brought to awareness until someone jostled her to the side. Her whole body jerked out of whatever stupor she had been in and her hand raised to her lips, touching them gently. Confused. Very, deeply, and disturbingly confused. Finn kissed her. Kissed. Lips to lips. Kissed. Nonchalantly. Without a thought as to who would see or what the ramifications could be. He just… kissed her. Like a date might do.

And she found herself okay with it. Which scared her a little bit and caused her to giggle. A schoolgirlish, high giggle that bubbled up and escaped her mouth before she could even consider stopping it. She felt giddy. And.. twelve.

Allison finally realized that Finn was no longer at her side and when her eyes finally found him over the shoulder of the petite girl that had pushed her away, she couldn’t help the wide, beaming grin that was plastered to her face. He wasn’t dancing, but the bloke next to him was doing something like jogging in place while trying to row a boat. It was entertaining, but no so much as the dancing light in Finn’s hazel eyes as he watched the scene. He seemed so… happy and carefree. What she felt, finally, for the first time in months. It was because of him. And that kiss.

Allison grabbed a drink off of a passing tray, and downed it in one. Straightening her shoulders, she marched forward and knocked arms with the blond tramp that had been standing in front of her. Her eyes remained zeroed in on Finn, her hips swaying as she made her way over to where he stood. At the exact moment that she reached his side, the crowd began to clap excitedly. Allison turned to see what was so amusing, and saw the tall, gangly boy reaching toward the floor.

They were having a dance-off? Finn was in a dance-off? And people were cheering? Allison made a vague attempt to grab his arm to stop him from going, but realized too late that he had already begun a very odd jive on the dance floor. The people around him were all mimicking the motions. It was supremely strange and oddly sexy. He was so charismatic; it was talent. Obviously not the dancing kind of talent, but something alluring all the same.

She rushed forward with no plan in mind. Just the need to be near him again – to… she didn’t know. Allison just wanted… something. He was mid-flail when her hand reached out to grab his, and she yanked him to her. Finn crashed into her, but she barely felt it at all. Her eyes were staring up into his, the glimmer of mirth shining so freely from them. Without thinking, she reached her hands up and placed them on the back of his head, pulling him down into their second kiss of the evening.

When she pulled away, her smile was lopsided and her eyes were heavy-lidded. Her voice just a puff of breath. “I don’t know why I did that.”
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Finn Lancaster
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Well, at least she didn’t haul off and slap him. That was better than he’d hoped, Finn thought idly as he turned his attention to the spinning spectacle of limbs and tails. He was a little more than impressed by the string bean in black and orange. The boy had a genuine gift for dance.

There was a special talent in being able to twirl and maintain the flare of flailing arms in such a wildly carefree way. Most people couldn’t appreciate the skill it took, but Finn did. His hazel eyes sparkled in merriment as he took in the crowd enjoying the pair of them taking turns dancing. The tall chap spun around with a flourish and gestured to Finn that it was his turn.

Finn’s grin widened and he began to move his hips in time with his arms in a loose interpretation of a traditional jive. Very loose interpretation.

The crowd around them began clapping and Finn decided then and there that he would have to take his dancing to a whole new level to compete with Mr Groovy Halloween over there. As he began what would have been a complicated series of spins and pelvic thrusts, a hand caught his arm and tugged him. He was thrown offbalance and stumbled toward the flushed redhead beside him.

His body collided with hers and his arms automatically caught her about the waist to stop her from tumbling backwards. The scent of her perfume filled his senses as he savoured the warmth of her body pressed against his.

Perhaps it was the alcohol that had been flowing freely tonight or maybe it was his imagination, but he could have sworn that the blush on her cheeks was not due to her irritation toward him (as was the norm). Rather, he would have bet galleons on the fact that the saucy little publicist was rather impressed with his dance moves.

A fact that she proved by grabbing his face and pulling him down into a kiss. This kiss was something different than the one only moments before. He’d caught her by surprise before and her stunned reaction had rendered her motionless. This time however, she was initiating the searing kiss between them..

And Finn was not about to complain.

Allison pulled back all too quickly and Finn couldn’t help but mirror her lopsided grin. His eyes moved over the pale features of her face as she spoke. Her words dancing over his skin in a soft puff of air.

“I don’t know why I did that.” She whispered.

He lifted a hand up to brush a stray lock of fiery hair back off her cheek. His eyes sparkled with a mischievous energy as he rest his forehead against hers. The rest of the world was forgotten – the tall bloke with the unique dance style, the thumping music, even the eager and happy crowd – all of it was just background noise now. His attention was focused on the pretty woman in his arms.

“It’s the dance moves, sweetpea. No girl can resist a man who can dance.”

And as if trying to prove his point, Finn began to move. His arms around Allison helped to guide her into a quick pace with him. Keeping their bodies flush against each other, he began a fun dance that he’d always wanted to try before. The Salsa.

Now, this might have been a good idea had Finn ever had any type of formal training. Hell, even if he’d seen the dance done before. But Finn was fairly competent that he’d be able to make it up as he went along.

Apparently, he was wrong.

As he guided Allison along the dance floor in a lively step, his eyes were locked on hers. The green irises were mesmerizing. He was lost in her gaze. Unfortunately his distraction was to be their downfall. Literally.

Because he hadn’t been paying attention to where they were gliding (a subjective term) Finn didn’t see the couple of school kids dancing rather awkwardly together. Their posture was rigid and uncomfortable and the two were looking anywhere but at each other.

Finn steered Allison backwards into the young man and as he felt the jolt, he took a quick step back to recover. Somehow he lost his footing and was flung back onto the ground. His hold on Allison never loosened so she tumbled directly on top of him. Her petite form landing on him knocked the wind out of him and he stared up at her with a cheeky grin.

“I hardly that this is the place for this, angelface. Now, if you wanted to take me back to your place and ravage me there…” He shrugged, somehow managing to look nonchalant while sprawled out in the middle of a crowded dance floor. “I wouldn’t exactly argue.”
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Allison Shapiro
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Allison didn’t know what to expect. Perhaps he would have whisked her away to some secluded corner, snogged her, felt her up, apparated them to a cheap inn and left before breakfast in the morning. Maybe he would have learned how to dance properly, spun her on the dance floor and swept her off of her feet. No. Instead, it was sweeter. He moved a chunk of hair from her face and very softly rested his forehead against him. Nevermind the sweat he had on his face from dancing – gross.

She had his every attention. The smile on her face was unmovable. Well, until…

“It’s the dance moves, sweetpea. No girl can resist a man who can dance.” The barking laugh that left her wasn’t covered up in the slightest. There was no way on earth he could honestly believe it was his dancing that had forced her to see what a handsome man he was. If nothing else, it had prolonged it.

And then her laughter turned into manic pleading for Finn to stop. The music volume and his lack of sense were against her, however. He moved them with his tight hold on her body, her hips were moving in a jerky fashion side to side as her feet were coerced forward and back. If anyone was paying attention without the help of inebriation, they would see that Finn and Allison looked like they were engaged in what only could be described as robot mating rituals.

Flashes of cameras were going off as Finn led them quite jovially around the dance floor. She opened her mouth to call off the cameras, but was interrupted by a sudden yanking on her waist. Pelted forward and onto her knees, which hurt like a bitch, she was straddling Finn’s hips in her very short, yellow dress.

As she raised her face from his chest, Allison caught his hazel eyes sparkling up at her. His smile widening with every passing beat of music. “I hardly think that this is the place for his, angelface.”

Allison scoffed and sat up fully, ignoring the gawking crowd around them. “Now, if you want to take me back to your place and ravage me there I wouldn’t exactly argue.”

A noise of frustration, dark laughter and growling spilled from her lips before she could stop it. “Finn Lancaster, I could murder you!”

She slapped her hand down on his chest, balled up the front of his robes in her fist and pushed herself up from the ground by her knees, dragging his willing body with her. A floating tray of orange and black drinks passed them by and Allison used her free hand to grab one, down it quickly and placed the empty flute back on the tray.

In one, fluid motion Allison stepped forward, spun on her heel and apparated to the only place she knew she could avoid further humiliation. Home. With Finn attached to her by the unwavering fist clenching his robes.

She was familiar with the feeling of apparation, so it did little to jar her. When the landed in her living room, Allison quickly let go of his clothing and watched as he stumbled backward, surprise on his face.

“It is not your dancing,” she said, voice loud from due to the volume of the music in the ballroom. She hadn’t quite gotten her proper hearing back yet. “You are a horrible, horrible, terrible, no good dancer. I’m sorry,” she added in a little less sincerely than she meant it, “but it wasn’t the flailing limbs or the gyrating hips, honey.”

Allison stepped forward, a predatory smile on her face. “It was just…you.”

Finn took a step back from her, obviously shaken from the abrupt apparation and the way she had gone from a look of murder to one of absolute delight. Call it the alcohol (which was very accurate), but Allison was enamored by the way she had caught him off guard. Such a feat with Lancaster was like actually spotting an elusive beast in the middle of the High Street.

She was toe to toe with him in seconds, his knees pressed back against her worn sofa. Placing a hand nimbly on his chest, she fiddled with the buttons on his robes and plucked them open one by one. Her eyes never left his.

When she finally opened her mouth to speak again, her voice was husky. Low. A purr. “What was that you were saying about ravaging you at my place?”
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Finn Lancaster
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“Finn Lancaster, I could murder you!”

In retrospect, Finn should have expected nothing less from the beautiful redhead straddling him. Yet the menacing chuckle and dark glare she cast in his direction did very little to detract from the cheeky grin that was lighting up his face. He simply couldn’t help himself. If there was ever a time that he didn’t enjoy have a gorgeous bird straddling him, he hoped that someone out there would put him out of his misery.

Allison fisted her hand into the front of his shirt and pulled them both to their feet. Finn glanced down at the tiny hand clenched into the fabric and shot her a worried look. As she plucked a fresh drink off a passing tray and downed it, Finn chided with a smirk. “Gentle on the tux, love, it’s a one of a kind.”

And he wasn’t kidding. Strangely enough, there wasn’t a huge demand for peacock blue satin tuxedos so Finn had to have this one made just for him.

Before another word could be uttered, he felt that familiar tug at his navel and the pair apparated out of the crowded ball. His smile faltered only for a moment as she released her grasp on him and he stepped back from her. He took in his new surroundings.

Allison’s tiny apartment.

Well, that was an interesting twist.

“It is not your dancing,” she said in a voice that seemed a bit too loud for the silent space. “You are a horrible, horrible, terrible, no good dancer. I’m sorry, but it wasn’t the flailing limbs or the gyrating hips, honey.”

A look of pure disbelief crossed Finn’s face as he took great offense to her comments. His dancing may come across as a touch eccentric to be sure, but “horrible, horrible, terrible, no good”, that was just mean. Not to mention completely untrue.

“Oi!” He exclaimed, “Just because you are handicapped with no sense of adventure on the dance floor, doesn’t mean…” The words died on his lips as she cast a voracious smile at him and stepped toward him.

“It was just…you.”

“Oh.” Well, that changed things a bit. Finn took a step back in surprise.

He wasn’t completely inexperienced in dealing with predatory advances from women. It happened from time to time, but usually it was an over eager fangirl not from his own publicist. This was a completely new situation for him. And he was glad for that. Until Allison, his publicists had been middle aged balding men (and he was including Estelle in that description). If a single one of them had put him in this predicament, he’d have had a whole new set of problems.

She moved toward him and stood as close as possible, her hand moved up to begin plucking open the buttons on his shirt. Finn glanced down at her eyes and every single thought or concern flew from his mind.

“What was that you were saying about ravaging you at my place?” her sultry purr was enough to quiet any lingering thoughts from his brain.

“Like I said before, I’m not about to argue.” His own voice dropped to match her low tone. His hand moved finally. Lifting one up to rest on the soft fabric covering her hip, his other hand moved up to cup the side of her head. Dipping his head swiftly, his lips caught hers.

The last time he’d kissed her, it had been soft and light hearted. This kiss was different. There was a passion that was fueling this one. A passion that was burning brightly between them at this moment. It was something he could feel in her response.

Between the bantering and bickering, they’d always managed to elicit a strong response from each other. This situation was proving to be similar. The reactions may be different but the intensity was still there.

With a gentle pull from his hand that had slid from her hip to her back, she stepped toward him. Their bodies melded together as his tongue caressed the fullness of her bottom lip. He pulled back slightly, breaking the kiss but he was unable to resist another swift kiss. He finally pulled back and rest his forehead against hers once more.

“Am I allowed in your bedroom this time?” He asked with a smirk.
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Allison Shapiro
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There was a light buzzing in her ears that was either thanks to the amount of vodka in her system or the hormones that had suddenly flooded her body. She didn’t really care much to think about why she was doing what she was doing, just that she was doing it and it felt fucking fantastic. Finn’s hand at her hip, behind her head, driving down into a demanding kiss. Allison mewled, or something that sounded like a pleased, or perhaps angered, feline.

She clung to him, hands finding his hair and then his neck and then his strong shoulders. Digging her fingers in slightly to the fabric of his – scarily precious – suit, Allison poured all of her feelings, both positive and negative, into the kiss. She’d never believe that she could do such things with her tongue, but there she was like some raunchy fangirl, just whoring it up with Finn Lancaster. The idea of it didn’t bother her as much just then.

When he pulled away, she practically growled and held a bit tighter to his shoulders.

“Am I allowed in your bedroom this time?” The smirk on his face should have snapped her out of whatever trance she was in, but the vodka held strong and produced a matching devious little quirk of her own lips.

She let go of him completely and stepped away, wasting no time in spinning around and taking a few unsteady steps away from him. Reaching up to the zipper at the back of her dress, Allison tugged it until she was able to drag it with a loud zipping noise to her lower back. Glancing over her shoulder, she sent Finn a sultry smile and crooked her finger to tell him to follow her.

As she walked to the bedroom, she shimmied out of the yellow fabric that had donned her curves that evening. She kicked around trousers and blouses as she stepped into her messy room and launched herself at the bed to knock off a couple pairs of panties that she had tried on with the dress before finally deciding that she was best off with a little number that couldn’t really be counted as knickers anyway.

Hearing the door creak open further than her tiny frame must have left it, Allison turned over so that she was on her back and rested on her elbows. Her wide, brown eyes held Finn’s from across the room. She wasn’t able to shake the growing smile on her face.

Her fingers traced a figure eight on the silky skin at her side. Enticing him – that’s what she wanted to do. Make him feel desired. Because, deep down, Allison knew that her attraction to Finn wasn’t all based on their tumultuous relationship. In fact, she found him irritatingly good looking. The only thing that had ever put her off him was his immediately recognizable arrogance.

He had none of that tonight. He had been doting and attentive and charming. Funny to a fault, only because the poor bloke didn’t realize his dancing was akin to mating octopi.

“Going to join me, Finn?” she asked finally, not bashful at all from the lack of material covering her body. While her face was flushed, the rest of her body was covered in goosebumps. Still, with his passion filled eyes on her, Allison really didn’t feel the cold. Not one bit.
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