At Long Last
by imp

At Long Last

imp

Summary

Toby thinks Tybalt's confession will lead to them sleeping together right away. Tybalt has other ideas.

Notes

None

Chapter One

She's holding his hand as they go inside. Once they're safely in, she kisses him as dawn strikes, shuddering against him when he kisses her back. It's still new, so ridiculously new - but it's not like she hesitates to slide her hands down his arms and grab his hands, tugging him towards the stairs.

Or at least, she tries. But he doesn't budge, and when she looks back, he's looking at her with a strange smile on his face.

"Tybalt," she says, because if this means what she thinks it might she is going to kill him.

"I did say I wanted to court you."

"Tybalt," she says again. The rage headache coming on can't be a good sign.

Tybalt's smile widens a little more, and he says, "Let me make you a little something before bed."

"Is this some weird cat thing? Because you don't need to bring me a dead bird to prove your -" she fumbles for a word other than 'love' "- devotion."

"I am Cait Sidhe, not one of your house cats," Tybalt says dismissively. "And if you don't want chicken, I'll make something else."

Tybalt disappears into the kitchen and Toby stares after him for a minute before following after him.

He makes her chicken, and it's good, though she wouldn't have added strawberry jam to the cheddar cheese. After that, he kisses her, rinses the dishes, and says, "I should return to my court."

"You can't be serious."

"I am." He looks at her consideringly before saying, "I'll see you soon, October." He leans in and kisses her, then steps into the shadows.

She doesn't see Tybalt over the next couple of days, which is probably for the best, because she's not sure she wouldn't throttle him if she did.

May isn't much help when Toby tries to ask her about it. Apparently night haunts and fetches don't have a lot of courting rituals. "Jazz says I'm really easy," she shrugs. "Why don't you ask Sylvester? Or Quentin."

Toby will die of sexual frustration before she asks her liege or her squire for advice on how to get Tybalt into bed faster.

She's pondering various seduction by ambush plans when the doorbell rings. Toby opens her door to find Tybalt on the other side, holding a bag of fertilizer. Fresh fertilizer.

"If you're trying to woo me, showing up smelling like shit is an interesting way to do it." At least when he reeks she feels less inclined to jump his bones.

"This isn't for you," Tybalt says, brushing past her. "Well, not directly."

"Then who's it for?" she says, an instant before she realizes it's obviously for Spike.

It makes her uncomfortable, fundamentally uncomfortable, to watch Spike kneeling down and spreading the fertilizer over the pot Spike sometimes deigns to stay in. Spike, though, chirps and coos, wrapping itself around Tybalt as best as it can with all its thorns.

Spike's a dirty traitor. "Well, thanks," she says loudly.

He straightens and turns to her. "We should have lunch. Are you on a case?"

"If I was, I wouldn't be having lunch."

"That's very true." He doesn't look happy about it. He does dust off his hands, though, and says, "May I use your bathroom to wash up?"

"I could come," she says. Sure, he's covered in fertilizer, but she really would like to get laid sometime in the next century.

"I'll be fine," he says. He looks...she can't even tell. His expression is sort of wily and ironic, but then, he's a cat.

"Right," she says. "I am really starting to hate you, you know."

"I was made aware," he says, and smirks like a complete asshole.

Toby lets him clean up on his own, but once he steps out into the hall smelling more like lemongrass than barn yard, she pushes him against the wall and kisses him. He kisses back intently, cupping the back of her head and resting his hand on her hip. She's a lot less chivalrous, dragging his shirt up and nipping at his lip.

Of course, just when she thinks she's really getting somewhere, that maybe she's worn him down, he pushes her away. "Now what were you saying about lunch?"

"You're the worst," Toby says, trying to catch her breath. She doesn't know how, but now Tybalt looks completely unruffled. "I don't know why I even bother. I h-"

She's distracted from her tirade by Spike, who is rolling around in the fertilizer, licking the air. She thinks maybe the roses are looking a little funny.

"Did you get Spike high?"

"Hmm?" Tybalt looks to Spike's pot. "Oh, I thought this might happen."

"You purposefully got my rose goblin high."

"You always assume the worst, October. Getting you roses seemed redundant, as you having a living bouquet walking around your apartment. And you spend enough time with the Duchess Torquil that simple blooms would pale in comparison."

Toby crosses her arms and glares at him, because that's actually kind of thoughtful. "So what did you bring Cagney and Lacey? They'll be jealous."

"They may look upon their king," Tybalt says smugly.

She nearly throws her head back and groans.

She's pretty sure she's going crazy. She keeps seeing Tybalt, but never for very long; it's almost like back before she was turned into a fish, except this time, she wants him to stay. He's endlessly courteous and kinder than she's used to, but that doesn't mean he's not also kind of a bastard about it.

"I hate you," she says one night, as he backs away from kissing her against the wall of her living room.

He looks a little winded, a little off-kilter, but he smiles anyway. "I suppose I shouldn't give you this, then." He pulls out a cloth-wrapped package tied with string.

"Didn't anyone teach you how to wrap things?"

Tybalt looks puzzled. "Wrap it with what?"

"Never mind." She holds out a hand. "Give it to me."

"Is that any way to ask for a gift, October?"

"All I actually want is your dick."

That makes him laugh, but doesn't - regrettably - make him give in. "Take it," he says, holding it out to her.

She unwraps it. It's a dagger, simply made but of a perfect weight.

"I had it made for you," he says. "I didn't think you'd want something ornamental."

"It's for killing."

"I suppose you could peel an apple with it, if you wanted to."

She bites back a laugh. "Tybalt."

He raises the hand that's not holding the dagger and kisses it. "I'll see you soon."

He's in the shadows before she has the chance to threaten to stab him. Next time, she thinks darkly. Next time, before sexual frustration kills her.

She spins the knife in her hand a few times before heading to the den. She heard Raj earlier; maybe he and Quentin will be up for some sort of training where she throws it at them. Or other things.

At the very least he can tell her whether or not Tybalt put any weird Cait Sidhe magic on it that she should know about.

She's busy considering what that might be, so she's extra surprised when she walks into the den and sees Raj with his hand down her squire's pants.

"You've got to be kidding me. You've got to be fucking kidding me."

"Um," Quentin says.

Raj steps away quickly and half-bows. "Toby."

She's so furious she's a little worried she's going to punch him. It doesn't occur to her that it's more threatening to draw the knife out until she's done it and Quentin has thrown himself in front of Raj, saying, "What are you doing!"

"Oh, come on. I'm not going to stab him. Move."

Quentin glares.

She sighs. "We'll talk about your activities later. Right now I have questions for Raj. Move, or I'll move you."

"Fine," Quentin mutters. He moves aside, but he's still glaring at Toby.

She ignores it. "Tybalt gave this to me," she says. "Did he put any magic on it?"

"May I see it?"

Toby almost hands it over, then remembers what she walked in on and says, "Wash your hands first. Oak and ash, I could kill you both."

Quentin is sulking as best he can while standing at full attention, but Toby isn't having any of it.

"What the hell, Quentin."

"Sir, you may be my knight but you have no right -"

"I have no right? How could you do this to me?"

Quentin looks at her briefly before going back to staring straight ahead. "You don't seem to have a problem with May and Jazz."

"Please, don't remind me. Why does everyone in my house get to get laid but me?"

"Uh?"

"Is he bringing you weird shit and blue balling you? Or is Tybalt just special?"

Raj coughs from behind her. "Um. No. I mean, yeah. Uncle Tybalt is courting you, it's...different."

"Why?"

Quentin and Raj glance at each other uncomfortably. Toby restrains herself from gutting both of them and says again, "Tell me why, one of you."

"He's old-fashioned," Raj says. He shrugs with a fluid grace that reminds her, painfully, of Tybalt. "He feels for you, so he wants to demonstrate it."

"He could demonstrate he feels for me by feeling me -"

"Sir!"

Okay, fine; that was a little much. Toby sighs. "Do what you want," she forces herself to say. "But Raj, you might want to pass this on to Tybalt: I'm getting impatient."

Raj looks miserable, but he says, "I will, Sir Daye."

"Good."

They don't move, so she glowers at them. It takes them a minute, but they finally scuttle off guiltily.

Toby collapses on the couch, one arm over her eyes. "Oberon's balls," she mutters. She is going to die of sexual frustration.

Toby spend a long afternoon trying to communicate with the pixies of Goldengreen - she's not their mistress any more, but Dean said they requested her and she just doesn't know how to say no - who want her to find whatever new beastie is snatching them up and leaving only trails of wings and dust behind.

It took four hours to get even that much information across via pantomime and then she had to fight pre-rush hour traffic home and all Toby wants is coffee. So when she finds Tybalt lounging on her steps she nearly snaps. "Unless you're here to get me off, you can head on home."

He smirks, the bastard. "Funnily enough, I am."

"Good," she says, and moves towards him.

But he quickly steps back. "I made coffee."

"We'll have it after we fuck."

"Let's have it now."

He's up to something, and she can tell. So she's not surprised when she goes into the kitchen and there's a small rectangular package sitting on the table. This time it's been professionally gift-wrapped.

Toby thinks, very seriously, about murder.

"Open it," Tybalt says. "I'll pour the coffee."

"Since when do you give me orders?"

He shrugs. "You can refuse to open it as well. I certainly won't force you."

She kind of wants to, just out of spite, but his almost-taunt about getting her off sticks in her mind. As soon as he gives her a mug of coffee, she opens the package.

It's a vibrator. A nice one, she notes distantly, over how much she suddenly wants to throttle him.

"This doesn't count unless you're the one using it on me," Toby says. "While naked. So unless you're ready to take this upstairs, you can leave now."

Tybalt places the mug of steaming coffee down in front of her. "My my, October, you are testy today. Raj told me -" Oh how Toby wishes she could have heard that conversation. "- but I think he undersold the situation. His fondness for you is showing."

"So is your ego," Toby says. "Contrary to what you may think, I'm not actually sitting around all day waiting for you to come and pay attention to me."

"Who's trying to kill you now?"

"No one's trying to kill me, unless I get electrocuted by my new toy."

"The woman in the store said it's shower safe," Tybalt says helpfully.

"Right." Toby looks down at her coffee, then up at Tybalt. He's got that look on his face, the one that means he's in no way going to be moved by anything she has to say.

And, unfortunately, he's not afraid of her. She really wishes she'd given more thought to intimidating him before he refused to sleep with her.

"You're a jackass," she says finally.

"Human slang, October? Really?"

She gets a bolt of inspiration and leans forward, kissing him. He kisses back, seemingly not minding her mouth tasting like coffee; she leans forward, still kissing him as she straddles his lap.

He's hard and enjoying it, and for a second she thinks, maybe - but then he pulls back.

"You have a case, Raj tells me."

"A minor one."

"Hmm." He sets her on her feet and stands. "I should leave you to...relax, then." He looks at the vibrator.

"Tybalt -"

"Really, try the shower," he says. He leaves via the front door, probably so she doesn't try to leap into the shadows and follow him. Which, okay, she does think about for a moment.

But Raj isn't ready to be King, and killing Tybalt won't get him into her bed.

Toby wakes up to the sound of hushed voices talking over her. Her head is killing her.

"It's very rude of you to keep trying to get yourself killed before I have the chance to do it," the Luidaeg says.

"Is everyone?" Toby asks, gritting her teeth against the pain in her side and in her head.

"The pests and the boy are fine," she says. "And Tybalt handled our rogue...dragon."

"I wanted to bring you its head on a platter, but you specifically said you don't want dead things," Tybalt says, sitting down next to her.

"The dagger helped," Toby points out. She distinctly remembers how well it slid between the not-a-dragon-but-really-looked-like-it's ribs as it descended on her, claws extended.

"I have excellent taste," Tybalt demurs, lifting Toby's hand to his mouth for a kiss.

Toby pulls him down for a real kiss - more fiercely than she means to, really. When she looks up, the Luidaeg looks amused.

"Get out," she all but snarls. Then she remembers herself and adds, "Please."

"You," the Luidaeg says, stabbing a finger at Tybalt, "don't fuck anything up this time." She leaves.

"If you're not planning on," Toby starts to say - but Tybalt launches forward and kisses her desperately. So that answers that question, she has time to think, before he tangles a hand in her hair and tugs sharply.

Toby would be fine with doing this right here on the kitchen table, but just before she thinks that's actually going to happen, Tybalt pulls back. "We're not doing this here."

"But we're doing this."

"Obviously," Tybalt says before scooping her up like she's some princess who needs to be pampered and not a knight who's a just a little banged up. She'd complain, but Tybalt might change his mind about the fucking just to spite her. And it isn't entirely terrible.

He lowers her onto her bed gently, so she retaliates by kicking his feet out from under him and bringing him down to the bed next to her. He laughs, which gives her more than enough time to lean over him and kiss him - roughly, hard, like she's wanted to for weeks now.

"This is gratifying," he says when she pulls away. "But I'd hoped for a bit more finesse."

"Then fuck someone else," Toby says. Her voice has gone rough and she couldn't care less; she tears his shirt open and attacks his neck, happy when he gasps and arches his back. This is good, this is perfect - she wants more.

She reaches down to rub his erection through his pants and he hums into her hair. She'd be tempted to call it a purr if the idea of that wasn't kind of creepy.

Tybalt slides a hand up the back of her shirt and fumbles with the clasp of her bra until Toby laughs. "Come on, this has to be easier than a corset."

Tybalt grumbles, "Easier does not imply simplicity."

She sighs and sits up enough to pull her shirt off and unhook her bra. "We're going to work on that," she tells him.

But her voice - breaks, almost. She feels like an idiot, except that he's staring at her, and then reaches out to cup her breasts. There's so much restraint there - and yet he's rough, rough enough that she grinds down on him, kissing him hard.

Tybalt groans, "You are so..."

He doesn't finish his sentence, and she's found a great angle through their pants so she's too busy rubbing herself against him to question further. Especially when his mouth becomes preoccupied with her breasts. There's no pattern to the mix of kisses, licks and occasional nip of his teeth, so each one is a little shock to her system.

"Is this enough foreplay?" Toby asks when it becomes clear Tybalt is very focused on his current task.

"I am a very skilled lover, October. Why won't you let me show you?"

"It's not like we're only going to do this once."

He smirks at her. "I try to make love as though each time might be my last."

She can feel her expression get stupid with shock. "Are you kidding me, Tybalt?"

"Not in the least," he says, and rolls them, unbuttoning her jeans. That, at least, he's skilled at.

She lifts her hips to help him and he kisses her knee, tugging her jeans down. "Let me please you," he says, moving back up to kiss her and easing a hand into her underwear.

Toby wants to complain, but she knows he'd just drag it out that much longer, And, well, there's not that much to complain about when he is finally, finally touching her.

"How are you this wet already?" Tybalt asks, his voice gratifyingly rough.

"Because - " Toby gasps as he slides a finger in and crooks it just so. "I've been waiting, and wanting you and -"

Tybalt kisses her again and she grinds down on his hand, twisting and rolling her hips.

He gets her off quickly, almost embarrassingly easily. She thinks he's saying endearments as she comes, but she doesn't really notice; she's too busy losing it, thoroughly and without any kind of shame.

When she becomes more aware of her surroundings, she realizes he's whispering, "Toby, Toby, Toby," and grinding against her.

So she spreads her legs wider and says, "Come on, Tybalt. Are you going to fuck me or not?"

He kisses her hard as he presses into her - not gently or slowly at all, but exactly how she wants it right now. "Fuck," she says, throwing her head back. He kisses her neck, bites down, grinding his hips in slow circles that are working perfectly for her.

She's not that surprised when he rolls them over so he can fuck her with real leverage, and damn it's good. She clutches his back, digging her fingers in and marking him as she lifts her hips to meet him stroke for stroke.

"October," he groans in her ear.

"Yeah, come on, do it," Toby says, opening her eyes so she can watch him lose control.

He clutches her hips bruisingly hard when he comes, and it's so good she ends up slipping a hand between them and following, pressing her face into the curve of his neck. Their smells are mingling, and fuck, it feels so fucking good, in every way.

She doesn't expect him to roll away, and he doesn't; he pulls out of her and then curls around her, all but purring, he's so pleased. "That's a little creepy," she tells him as he strokes a hand over her.

"October?"

"Yeah?"

"Shut up," he says, smiling against her shoulder.

She smacks him, hard enough to make him grunt; he laughs, and she smiles. His courting was bullshit, but she can't argue with the outcome.

"I'm not going to have to wait weeks before we don't this again, right?"

"Only if you wish it so," Tybalt says. "Otherwise I dare say we could this again before sunrise."

"Good."