Here! Have a total rip-off! Erm, Wizard Bloom goes shopping for porn? (So sue me, of course I remember best the bits of Ulysses about book shopping and smut.)
***
Wz Bloom lazily unfurled the top edge of the scroll with the tip of his finger. Simpson's Ars Magica: Index Animalium, edge badly foxed. Glimpsed a corner of the first illumination, snakes writhing together to form a capital ess. Mating knot. Nagini strangling a child. Them Slytherins never change their scales, I tell you, man.
Released the parchment to restore its protective curl.
He moved further down the shelf and lingered a moment: Survival as a Way of Life by that hooker who became famous.
-- Read that one already, he said, and moved on.
The proprietor's hand flourished a fan of three scrolls in Wz Bloom's direction.
-- These have been popular with certain of my customers.
He laid them on the countertop and adjusted his immaculate robes as he disappeared behind the curtain closing off the back room.
Wz Bloom was left to peruse them, or not, on his own. Pirate's Passion by Hetta Terwilliger. Probably all heaving bosoms and torn shirts, right? Of course.
He edged that one aside and looked at the next: Beastly Love. Some promise in that title, hmm. Give it a go.
-- He ran his fingers through the animagus's soft fur, and fiercely swore to offer nothing less than comfort and protection in future. He would give anything. All for him. All for Michael.
Exactly. Good. This. More.
--pounced on him, pinning him to the mattress, still half in his animal state. Hot breath singed his skin and a wet tongue rasped against his neck.
Exactly. This one. Found it.
--I never wanted to hurt you, he said in a broken voice.
Eyes blazing with passion and anger, the animagus stood tall and proud before him. As if such as he could hurt such a magnificient man. A man whose gaze turned even sharper and began to stalk towards him.
Wz Bloom read again: Eyes blazing with passion and anger...
A tingling crept over him, quickening his breath. Grappling led to sweeter contact, skin to skin and skin to fur. He swallowed against a dry thirst. Splishy drops welling out (All for him. All for Michael.). Stench of carnivore's breath. Crusted flaking white (Hot breath singed his skin). Clutch! Bite! Surge! A crash of bitter coffee grounds and broken crockery!
Hot youth! Heated youth!
An elderly witch, unwrinkled skin just a faded memory, hobbled to outside the legal edifice, having sat on the Wizengamot's case in ridiculousness of Boyd, in the enchanted conveyances division the summons, exparte motion, of the owner of the flying kilim rug Ram's Horn versus the owner of the flying car Edsel, in the court of appeal pending decision in the case of Jackson versus Flickerson and Innocent's Air Insurance Company, held up in the Muggle courts.
The near silent swish of heavy curtains parting, and the owner reappeared. He cleared his throat expectantly.
Wz Bloom cleared his throat with some effort.
-- I'll take this one.
The ghost of a sinister smile flickered across the proprietor's visage.
-- Beastly Love, he said, packing everything up with an effortless wave of his wand. Quite popular indeed with certain customers.
The prize remained tucked deeply into his satchel, safe and hidden all the way until the warded door shut solidly behind him, causing the ancient sign to swing on its hinges: Bialystock & Bloom: We Make Magic Happen.
****
Yeah, I have absolutely no idea why I made him a furry.
no subject
***
Wz Bloom lazily unfurled the top edge of the scroll with the tip of his finger. Simpson's Ars Magica: Index Animalium, edge badly foxed. Glimpsed a corner of the first illumination, snakes writhing together to form a capital ess. Mating knot. Nagini strangling a child. Them Slytherins never change their scales, I tell you, man.
Released the parchment to restore its protective curl.
He moved further down the shelf and lingered a moment: Survival as a Way of Life by that hooker who became famous.
-- Read that one already, he said, and moved on.
The proprietor's hand flourished a fan of three scrolls in Wz Bloom's direction.
-- These have been popular with certain of my customers.
He laid them on the countertop and adjusted his immaculate robes as he disappeared behind the curtain closing off the back room.
Wz Bloom was left to peruse them, or not, on his own. Pirate's Passion by Hetta Terwilliger. Probably all heaving bosoms and torn shirts, right? Of course.
He edged that one aside and looked at the next: Beastly Love. Some promise in that title, hmm. Give it a go.
-- He ran his fingers through the animagus's soft fur, and fiercely swore to offer nothing less than comfort and protection in future. He would give anything. All for him. All for Michael.
Exactly. Good. This. More.
--pounced on him, pinning him to the mattress, still half in his animal state. Hot breath singed his skin and a wet tongue rasped against his neck.
Exactly. This one. Found it.
--I never wanted to hurt you, he said in a broken voice.
Eyes blazing with passion and anger, the animagus stood tall and proud before him. As if such as he could hurt such a magnificient man. A man whose gaze turned even sharper and began to stalk towards him.
Wz Bloom read again: Eyes blazing with passion and anger...
A tingling crept over him, quickening his breath. Grappling led to sweeter contact, skin to skin and skin to fur. He swallowed against a dry thirst. Splishy drops welling out (All for him. All for Michael.). Stench of carnivore's breath. Crusted flaking white (Hot breath singed his skin). Clutch! Bite! Surge! A crash of bitter coffee grounds and broken crockery!
Hot youth! Heated youth!
An elderly witch, unwrinkled skin just a faded memory, hobbled to outside the legal edifice, having sat on the Wizengamot's case in ridiculousness of Boyd, in the enchanted conveyances division the summons, exparte motion, of the owner of the flying kilim rug Ram's Horn versus the owner of the flying car Edsel, in the court of appeal pending decision in the case of Jackson versus Flickerson and Innocent's Air Insurance Company, held up in the Muggle courts.
The near silent swish of heavy curtains parting, and the owner reappeared. He cleared his throat expectantly.
Wz Bloom cleared his throat with some effort.
-- I'll take this one.
The ghost of a sinister smile flickered across the proprietor's visage.
-- Beastly Love, he said, packing everything up with an effortless wave of his wand. Quite popular indeed with certain customers.
The prize remained tucked deeply into his satchel, safe and hidden all the way until the warded door shut solidly behind him, causing the ancient sign to swing on its hinges: Bialystock & Bloom: We Make Magic Happen.
****
Yeah, I have absolutely no idea why I made him a furry.
*facepalm*