The Chase Begins

Well, seeing as someone liked my last Annabelle/Pomfrey, here's another one, a follow on from 'Cakes and Babies'.

If you're reading this pairing for the first time, you need to read that fic first or this won't make much sense.

The wind whistled through the trees surrounding the St Trinian's estate, rippling the drapes of a marquee in the grounds, painted with the St Trinian's crest in gold.

Parents and children milled about on the lawn, some of them first years, others much older.

It was the end of term, and the one day the St Trinian's girls attempted to be civilised.

And I heavily emphasise the 'attempted' part of that sentence.

Annabelle Fritton watched her friends and schoolmates with a small smile, as she stood beside her father and aunt, chatting blithely.

It had been little over six months since they had triumphed over Sir Pomfrey and the AD1, a little over six months since they had revealed to the world that Shakespeare had been a woman.

Six months since she had encountered Sir Piers Pomfrey in that dark study, in his country mansion.

Just thinking about it sent shivers down Annabelle's spine, as she stood beside her aunt and father.

Suddenly there came a massive explosion, and everyone except the girls and Camilla Fritton flinched.

Annabelle sighed, rolled her eyes and turned around to scold the twins.

"Tania, Tara what did we say about the…" she trailed off, as her eyes drifted over the edge of the crowd. A flash of grey hair and a sharp black suit caught her eye, followed by a familiar wave of heat as memories of hands gripping her waist roughly, while hard lips devoured her own washed over her. "…TNT?" she finished awkwardly, before she excused herself and began to move through the crowd.

Since that night she hadn't heard or seen hide nor hair of Sir Piers Pomfrey.

After the scandal had broken, and AD1 exposed, he had disappeared, but now it seemed he had resurfaced.

"Annabelle!" she heard her father's voice call after her, but she ignored him as she tracked Piers through the crowd.

Why was he here? What did he want?

You, her mind predictably replied, at which Annabelle shuddered. He would likely have not forgotten about their night of passion, or the fact that it had been she who was primarily responsible for his fall from grace.

Heck, she had had difficulty forgetting it. And his reappearance in her life was not appreciated right now.

She tracked him to the edge of the crowd, not even thinking about alerting her aunt or any of the girls, determined to deal with him on her own.

She followed him, never seeing more than a glimpse of his grey head, or a flash of cold brown eyes, but she kept at it.

The summer sun warmed her through her school uniform, through the short skirt, high-heeled boots, flimsy blouse and blue waistcoat as she jogged along, trying to keep him in sight.

He led her around the side of the mansion that housed their school, and away towards a folly. Annabelle gulped, knowing where he was leading her.

The folly was a secluded little place, which the Posh Totties tended to use regularly, and if anything got out of hand, she would be too far away for anyone to hear her.

Just the thought of why he was leading her away sent unwelcome shivers down her spine.

Abruptly, her arm was almost yanked out of her socket by her father, Carnaby Fritton, as he caught up with her, puffing and hot.

"Now wait right there, young lady! Didn't you hear me call?" he spluttered, as Annabelle eyed his bloodshot eyes. He'd clearly been at the bubbly again.

"Yeah I heard you, I just didn't feel like stopping," she shrugged her shoulders, trying to yank her arm away.

"You arrogant little-! You think you and that bonkers aunt of yours got away with publicly humiliating me with that painting, well we'll see in a few months!" Carnaby growled.

"What are you babbling about?" Annabelle asked wearily, knowing she'd lost Pomfrey now.

A purely evil grin lit up Carnaby Fritton's face, as he let go of his daughter's arm and leaned forward.

"In a few months time, you won't be my problem anymore. I've actually found someone who'll take you," he spat maliciously, as Annabelle stared at him.

Then she looked down and spotted, for the first time, the ring on his finger.

"You're AD1," she breathed.

"Bit slow on the uptake there, dear," he replied sarcastically, at which Annabelle glared.

"Go figure that my idiot father would have found a bunch of even more idiotic men to hang around with. Besides I don't need you anymore, and I don't need anyone else to 'take' me on either!" she exploded angrily, trying to turn around and walk away but Carnaby pulled her back.

"Do as I say, or I'll cut off your trust fund!" he snapped, but Annabelle just glared at him.

"Do it then, I've got my inheritance from Mum remember?" she sneered derisively, tugging at her arm. "Let go of me!"

"Now that's no way to treat a lady," a familiar, too-sexy-for-his-own-good voice drawled from behind Annabelle, as she stopped struggling and turned around.

"Please don't be him, please don't be him-" she hissed under her breath, but her prayers were not answered.

It was Sir Piers Pomfrey.

"Bugger," she gasped, at the sight of him, dashingly good looking in his expensive suit and carefully parted hair.

"We meet again, Annabelle," he breathed, a cocky smile spreading over his face, brown eyes glinting. Their eyes met, and Annabelle couldn't look away.

"Annabelle, meet your fiancé, Sir Piers Pomfrey," Carnaby, unaware of the history between his daughter and the man standing in front of them, babbled on.

Now those words snapped her out of her trance.

"What! Daddy, this isn't the Dark Ages! You can't just marry me off like this!" she spluttered, amazed and almost rendered speechless.

"He can," Piers put in.

"And I have," Carnaby added smugly, folding his arms.

"It's the law, and I'm 18 now. You have to have my consent," Annabelle continued, at which Piers merely smirked suggestively.

"I'm more than sure I can convince you otherwise, I can be quite 'persuasive' when I need to be," he murmured quietly, under his breath. Annabelle glared at him, remembering all too well his 'persuasiveness'.

"I think I need to have a word with you. In private," she snarled at him, wresting her arm from Carnaby's grip and marching off towards the folly, Piers following.

Piers smirked as he followed his fiery little Annabelle into the secluded folly, his eyes trained on her gleaming brunette locks before drifting lower.

For the past six months after his humiliation, he had been laying low for awhile, staying out of the media until the furore died down.

Now he would have his revenge.

Ensnaring Carnaby Fritton had been his first task.

Easily done, the man was an idiot and a vain peacock. He really couldn't see how Annabelle was related to him at all.

And now he had to persuade little Miss Fritton to be his wife.

Child's play.

A predatory grin lit up Pier's face, as they emerged into a secluded clearing, where several very conveniently placed trees clustered around a small swinging bench.

Perfect.

Annabelle stopped, swung around and opened her mouth to speak, giving Piers all the opportunity he needed.

"What the hell-?" she began, but Piers' lips cut her off abruptly, his steely arms sliding her waist and pulling her forward as he desperately devoured her mouth. She groaned and slid her hands into his grey hair, ruffling it wildly as she returned his passion full force.

Had it really been six months since they had-?

Her thoughts were cut off as Piers walked her backwards into a tree trunk, the rough bark scraping her back through her thin school blouse.

"I've been waiting six months for this, Annabelle Fritton," he growled, when he finally released her lips long enough to speak, but she could barely breathe where their bodies were crushed together.

Anger sparked in Annabelle's eyes, as she glared up at him, her nail digging into his chest as she tried to push him away.

"What kind of sick game are you playi-hmmmph!" she was cut off again as Piers kissed her roughly, unable to resist his urges at the sight of her so angry and so beautiful.

Her mouth opened, and his tongue slid in, dominating and aggressive. She sighed into his mouth, starting to enjoy herself a bit too much as he slid his hands down her hips, down her thighs to her knees. She lost her breath a second later entirely, when he pulled her feet out from under her, forcing her back against the tree.

Looping her arms around him for balance, Annabelle clung for dear life while he let his hands rove over her freely, pulling her shirt apart and shrugging off his suit jacket.

Annabelle wrested her lips from his fiercely, licking their bruised surface as Piers' eyes darkened.

"You are absolutely irresistible when you're angry, Annabelle," he breathed against her lips.

"You're so sick, y'know that?" she groaned when she felt him buck his hips against hers, biting her lip as Piers' lips started working their ardent way down her neck, his free hand fisted in her hair, pulling her head roughly to one side.

"You honestly didn't think I would let you go that easily?" he asked between hot, open-mouthed caresses down her décolletage, laving the reddening skin with his tongue hungrily.

"To be honest, not reall-" her reply broke off with ecstatic moan when he abruptly took her lips with his again, simultaneously freeing himself from his trousers and thrusting into her body.

At the feel of being inside his Annabelle once more, Piers broke off their kiss, leaning his cheek against hers, his nose buried in her sweet-smelling hair as he moved again, their twin hisses of pleasure shivering on the sultry air.

"We'll finish this conversation in a minute," Annabelle gasped, as she wrapped her legs around his waist, impaling herself even more firmly on him, before pulling his tie off and ripping apart his shirt buttons.

"Indubitably," Piers murmured back, groaning as her hands flexed over his sweaty skin, digging into the flesh of his shoulder blades. Annabelle grinned when he groaned, unable to hold it back.

Heck, she was so going to hell for this, she may as well enjoy it!

Piers pulled her away from the tree, and down onto the bench, settling himself back in-between her legs and thrusting in aggressively, making Annabelle bite her lip and arch upwards, fighting to avoid letting out another lusty moan.

He pinned her wrists up above her head, before silencing her moans with his mouth, drinking them in like fine wine, barely able to hold back his own.

It felt like hours later that Annabelle slumped on Pier's chest, utterly drained. Her entire body felt completely sated to her toes, so lethargic and heavy like she'd had one too many the night before, except this time without the nausea and the migraine.

Pier's fingers stroked her mussed hair, wildly splayed over his chest, a satisfied grin on his thin lips.

What Annabelle said next wiped it off pretty quickly.

"I am not going to give in, Piers," she murmured, before raising her head up to look him in the eye.

At the sight of her bruised lips and flushed skin, he felt lust roar through him again, as his hands tightened possessively around her waist.

"Oh yes, you are Annabelle. I'm not letting you go, ever," he growled, forcing her head up and kissing her aggressively, one she returned passionately.

Annabelle drew back, and smiled seductively.

"Then let the chase begin," she breathed, one eyebrow arched as his own mirrored it.

"Indeed," he replied softly, before drawing her lips back to his, both achingly aware of the lines they had just drawn.

Battle was joined, and the chase begins…

I'll probably do another oneshot to accompany this too. Please R&R!

Oh yeah I own nada, not Annabelle, not St Trinian's or….oh do I have to say it!

Fine I don't own Piers Pomfrey either!