Lust at First Sight

The little minx spared no time for playing coy. Amycus liked that a lot. Innocent flirting was one thing, but having taken him up on his offer for drinks, and mentioning shagging as a favorable alternative, was definitely a good sign. “A few drinks and then maybe we circle back here and have a go at that chair,” he said smugly, though there was no way in hades he’d ever be caught with his trousers down where the Dark Lord resided. Entertained? Hosted, perhaps. He wasn’t really sure where Voldemort lived, though it likely wasn’t here, and had no plans to get chummy enough with the man to ask. Picturing himself and Evie Nott rolling around buck-arse naked on the dais was about as close as he was going to get to experiencing that, thank you very much, but he liked the picture of it in his mind just fine. He pushed the door open and let Evie pass over the threshold, making a show of checking out her arse as he saw the figure of Rodolphus Lestrange exiting the meeting and wanted to ensure the man caught a glimpse of the skirt he had successfully chased. The door swung shut before Lestrange or any others had reached the exit, but perhaps if they were fast enough they would catch sight of Amy pulling Evie up close to him, hand pressed just above her bum, and the pair disapparating together.

He had chosen a bar that he felt would impress Evie, without displaying too many rugged wizards she might view as his competition for the evening; The Ambrosia Lounge. He was doubly confident with Evie’s acceptance of his offer atop Voldemort’s praise, which made him appear positively charming as he slid a gold coin to the host in exchange for a nicer table toward the back of the room. “Someone seemed rather smitten with your work today,” he praised, hoping the mention of accolades from their master would remind her of the praise he had received himself. “I suspect you’re no stranger to such compliments, though.” That was dumb – he knew she had received such compliments before. They attended the same meetings. Sodding idiot. He didn’t let his blunder show on his face, simply smirked at her until the waiter approached for their drink order.

Amycus leaned in as she divulged her little secret. He was only mildly surprised by her confession, not because he found the Dark Lord attractive or anything – he wasn’t into blokes – but because he was certain women were attracted to power and there was no one more powerful at the moment than Lord Voldemort. He knew for a fact that power and control was an aphrodisiac because he worked for the Lestranges and saw firsthand how the witches in the office acted whenever Adolph or Rodolphus walked through. Even when Rabastan came for a visit, there was a definite panty dropping effect on the women. Evie either had to be completely off her rocker (why was that thought so fucking hot?) or lying in attempt to flirt. In either case, it was working on Amycus. Talk shifted, as expected, back onto Amy’s achievements and the smug expression on his face grew. “Yes, well,” he wasn’t just going to ignore that the evening had been primarily devoted to praising his efforts, even if it really only had been a small portion of the meeting’s agenda, “I try to generous when the opportunity arises.” He wiggled his eyebrows at her, insinuating a glimpse into her future, when the waiter cleared his throat to gain their attention.

Amy had forgotten all about the waiter with Evie throwing compliments back at him, his ego growing ever powerful. She was a daft witch if she didn’t think power was sexy, he was getting off on his own at the moment and loving every second of it. Amycus looked to the waiter and chastised him. “Patience is a virtue, lad.” The waiter looked to be older than he was, but Amy still spoke to him as if he were a child. “I’ll have a scotch neat.” Rodolphus Lestrange ordered those, he’d observed, so it was obviously Amycus’ new favorite drink. “And the lady will have…” he trailed off, looking to Evie for confirmation. What would she drink? Something fruity? Something feminine with vodka? Witches loved vodka.

Whiskey. He hadn’t been expecting that from Evie. She looked all prim and proper, as if she ordered cocktails with barely a hint of alcohol in them and nursed it all night long, but she was bold and sophisticated. And her foot was making a bee-line towards his balls. He smirked at her, sliding forward on his seat just a touch as the waiter left to fetch their drinks. “How is it that we’ve never done this before?” They’d flirted previously, but never had they been this close to actually doing something. Amy didn’t mind that she was older, it was only by a few years and if that made her technically a cougar then she was the hottest fucking cougar he’d ever seen.

Under different circumstances he might have scoffed at her self-compliment, especially given how confident he was feeling in this moment, but he liked Evie and telling her to shove her intimidation theories up her tight little arse wasn't going to serve him any good. "That must be it," he said with an attempt at a suave smile, not quote 100% sure there wasn't some truth to that statement. He raised his eyebrows approvingly as her foot rooted around in his lap, getting him ready for what he was positive was a sure thing. The waiter returned with their drinks and Amycus picked his glass up without any recognition to the poor sod who was smiling and looking for a 'thank you' at the least. "To the wild evening ahead," he toasted, tilting his glass towards hers.