A/N: A friend of mine (you know who you are) complained that Here, Let Me Help You With That wasn't dirty enough for her *cough*high*coughcough* standards. So here we go again. I have no idea where this is going to go.

All Worked Up

"Yeah? Well, you're the most stubborn, stuck-up git I've ever had the misfortune of knowing!" Her accusation rang out through the Heads' Common Room and faded into silence; the only sound in the air thick with tension was the heavy breathing of both of them. His expression darkened for a moment, before his face spread into a grin.

"And you love me for it, Lils. Come on, I hate it when we fight."

"So do I, James, but you're so... infuriating sometimes! Merlin."

"Infuriating? Like how?"

"Like now! I miss our sixth-year arguments. I miss being able to yell whatever insults I want at you, knowing you won't take them to heart, because you're returning the favour twice over. I miss the more aggressive side of you, Merlin forbid. I miss the feeling I got when I won; now it's not possible to win because you always stop before we even get to the good part, leaving me all worked up and frustrated over nothing!" Her chest was heaving, her breath sounding more and more like panting, and James felt himself getting more and more turned on, much as he tried to push away the feeling and concentrate on his infuriated girlfriend. As if that'd work – he was a teenage boy, after all. And so the next thing to come out of his mouth was neither the contrite apology or the enraged remark that Lily was debating between expecting. Instead, what he said was "All worked up over nothing? Really? Cause you know, I can think of ways to put that to good use." His statement may or may not have been punctuated with a wink, but it came and went so fast Lily wasn't quite sure whether it was real or a product of her imagination.

"You're an idiot", she managed to get out before flying at him, a tangle of arms and legs and lips. "Don't you know it," he replied against her mouth before all but forcing his tongue into her mouth (but it's not like she was unwilling), one hand already tangling in her hair, the other one sneaking its way under her shirt, covering her breast roughly. Hers were searching for the bottom of his shirt, finally finding it tucked in his pants, and she dug it out, taking care to brush his swollen cock ever so lightly on the way up. The shirt was over his head in an instant, hers following suit, and his lips returned to hers with a kind of hunger. He fumbled with the clasp of her bra, his fingers clumsy, and she sighed impatiently and undid it herself, pulling him closer. His hands returned to her breasts, thumb brushing over her nipple, squeezing hard; she cried out, neither knowing or caring if was from pleasure or pain, and bit his shoulder, giving as good as she got.

"Merlin, Lils, you're going to kill me, you know that?" he panted, backing them up against the table, lifting her onto it. He placed his hands on both sides of her, leaning on them, bringing his face close to hers, yet not quite close enough. "But of course," she drawled, leaning her head back and looking up at him with an oh-so-innocent expression, her fingers all the while ghosting down his chest, down until they met the barrier of his trousers. "These are in the way." Her lips, swollen from his touch, began to pout. They were off in a flash, along with his boxers (such a useless piece of clothing, really). She clutched his hair, used it as leverage to pull his head back to hers, pull it back and keep it there. His hands left the tabletop, lingering behind her knees, drifting up the insides of her thighs, all the way to her underwear, long since soaked through. He allowed her one stroke, one touch, before his fingers crept to the edges of the offending item of clothing, hooked underneath and pulled them off; they might have torn on the way down, but he didn't care, he just wanted rid of them. She moaned indignantly at the minimal contact, or as indignantly as it was possible to moan, and grabbed his hands, showing him exactly what he should do with them. In a mock display of obeisance, he let his fingers enter her once, twice, three times; she bucked her hips quite involuntarily, let out a breathy "Oh, Merlin," and quite suddenly his fingers vanished.

She looked up at him questioningly, needfully, she looked up at him and he grinned so evilly and she pouted once more, but it didn't have the desired effect this time; instead he mustered all of his self-control and took a step back, and then another and another, until he was standing against the door leading to his room. "As if you're getting away from me that easily, James Potter," Lily huffed. Hands on her hips, she marched right up to him, pressing her entire body against him, smirking as he swallowed and tried to keep still. She, on the other hand, was anything but still; her hands roamed his face, tracing the lines of his mouth, her breasts were pressed up against his chest, and had he moved his hips forward a centimetre or two, he would have been inside her, and indeed that was what she was trying to achieve. He tried very hard to think of his Great-Aunt Lisa, really, he did, but then she slid herself down his body, merely an inch or two, and accompanied it with such a profoundly dirty wink that his resistance crumbled, he couldn't help it. Fumbling for the handle of his door with one hand, he picked her up with the other, and as she reunited her lips with his she thanked Merlin for the existence of Quidditch as there was no way he could have carried her with one hand if not for the millions of practises.

Yet carry her he did, the short distance from his door to his bed, which he then threw her down on, leaning down so his face nearly touched hers. "You miss my aggressive side, huh?" he whispered, and returned his fingers to her entrance with what could only be described as vengeance. They ghosted up and down, occasionally parting her lips, but never going deeper than a centimetre; she writhed under him, panting, gasping for breath, begging for more, oh Merlin, more... Clutching the bedsheets under her, clutching them and bucking her hips up, up to meet his fingers. She couldn't help it, she released the bedsheets, reached down for his hands; they wouldn't budge, and so she began to do it herself, she pushed her own fingers inside, frantically, desperately seeking the release he brought her so close to yet cruelly withheld. Withheld, and didn't want her to give herself either, as he grabbed her hands, forcing them to stay still. She let out what sounded like a cross between a sob and a whimper, and he smirked, it was him in control now, and his aggressive side was glad to oblige. Grabbing his wand from the bedside table where he'd left it before their argument, he wordlessly tied her wrists to the posts of the bed.

"Naughty Lils, let's not get ahead of ourselves, yeah?" She looked on, eyes wide in anticipation and just the slightest hint of nervousness, as he dropped a kiss just below her right ear, on each nipple, on her navel, on the small patch of hair that covered her core... her eyes rolled back in her head as he placed a feather-light kiss on her slick folds; he waited for the shiver to pass through her body and then roughly delved in with his tongue, exercising none of the restraint he had shown just minutes earlier; the frenzy of his movement was matched only by her hissed "Oh, Merlin!"s and practically screamed "Yes, James, yes!"s and by the pace with which she pushed herself into his face and struggled against the soft ropes that held her wrists in place, wanting, needing more of him, all of him. His teeth found her clit, he bit down lightly, and she saw stars, she screamed his name again and again and he smiled, giving her one last lick before retracing his way up her. He kissed her, and she tasted herself on his lips, she wanted him desperately, had she been in any way aware of herself she might have been embarrassed, but as it was the only thing she was aware of was that he was hovering above her, just about kissing the living daylights out of her and barely letting his cock brush her slit every now and then, she was aware of all this and the fact that her hands were tied above her head and she needed them free, needed them free so she could grab him, grab him and do herself what he was refusing to do. He broke away from her then, gasping air into his lungs, and she seized her chance. "James," she panted, trying to form a coherent sentence. "Yeah?" he replied, looking as dazed as she felt.

Fuck coherent sentences. "James, now." Her hands strained against their bonds.

Even in his dazed state, his arrogant nature remained. "Now, what?" he asked, sounding as innocent as it was possible to sound in the position he was currently in.

Throwing her last remaining inhibitions out the window, Lily let out a frustrated groan. "James, fuck me. Now."

"Oh, that now." He smirked. "Why didn't you just say so in the first place?" She reached up, captured that bloody annoying mouth with hers, and thrust her hips towards his, he got the message (really, he'd gotten it long ago), he untied her hands and finally thrust into her like he'd been wanting to since she'd first flung herself at him. Her hands finally free, she raked her nails down his back, he hissed in contentment, her legs wrapped around him and she bucked up, up, up, meeting his thrusts; he searched for her spot, then he found it and she clenched around him, simultaneously they screamed their climax, he collapsed on top of her, burying his face in the crook of her neck. Rolled off her, lest he crush him, and wrapped his arms around her, kissed her nose. "We should definitely argue more often," she whispered sleepily, and he smiled, already planning how to next make her mad.

A/N2: I hope that was dirty enough to satisfy you, person-who-shall-remain-unnamed. Hope the rest of you had fun, too ;)

EDIT 18/4/2011: I fixed the hugo hugissimo paragraph thing. To be quite honest, I hadn't even noticed it until some of you pointed it out to me... oops. But thanks for letting me know.