(no subject)
Title: Not The Cheating Kind
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: post-Morag MacDougal/Ian Urquhart
Rating: PG-13/R
Warnings: Angst, drinking
Summary: You can see how hot her fire burns...
Morag walked into the bar painfully near Loch Ness, with a purpose. She was dressed in a blue and green dress that he had loved. She could tell because every time she had worn it, he his eyes had darkened in that possessive way that made her shiver in delight and anticipation.
She hadn't warn it in months. Her brother had convinced her that she needed to stop withdrawing and get on with life. Morag took that to mean 'get drunk and flirt a little.' That's why she was here. To loosen up, to move on.
She could feel the eyes on her and she swallowed and moved to the bar and ordered a whiskey. It wasn't the best they had, she could taste that as soon as the amber liquid touched her lips, but it would do. This whole night wasn't about the best, it was about 'good enough.' She slammed the drink back fast, trying to drown the thought of frustrating, handsome, perfect Ian Urquhart with something more potent.
She put the glass down and the barman refilled it as she tucked a curl behind her hear, slamming it back again, trying to drown out all thought. She was a Scottish girl and she could hold her whiskey, but by the third glass on an empty stomach everything had settled down to a gentle hum. There was no more thought, just feeling.
There were all sorts of cheating, she knew that, and despite the fact they were over, it still felt like cheating when she felt someone come up behind her and touch her neck. She wondered if it would ever not feel like cheating, if there would ever be a time when it didn't feel like Ian's touch had branded her.
Biting back a sigh, she turned, turning on a flirty smile that didn't reach her eyes.
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: post-Morag MacDougal/Ian Urquhart
Rating: PG-13/R
Warnings: Angst, drinking
Summary: You can see how hot her fire burns...
Morag walked into the bar painfully near Loch Ness, with a purpose. She was dressed in a blue and green dress that he had loved. She could tell because every time she had worn it, he his eyes had darkened in that possessive way that made her shiver in delight and anticipation.
She hadn't warn it in months. Her brother had convinced her that she needed to stop withdrawing and get on with life. Morag took that to mean 'get drunk and flirt a little.' That's why she was here. To loosen up, to move on.
She could feel the eyes on her and she swallowed and moved to the bar and ordered a whiskey. It wasn't the best they had, she could taste that as soon as the amber liquid touched her lips, but it would do. This whole night wasn't about the best, it was about 'good enough.' She slammed the drink back fast, trying to drown the thought of frustrating, handsome, perfect Ian Urquhart with something more potent.
She put the glass down and the barman refilled it as she tucked a curl behind her hear, slamming it back again, trying to drown out all thought. She was a Scottish girl and she could hold her whiskey, but by the third glass on an empty stomach everything had settled down to a gentle hum. There was no more thought, just feeling.
There were all sorts of cheating, she knew that, and despite the fact they were over, it still felt like cheating when she felt someone come up behind her and touch her neck. She wondered if it would ever not feel like cheating, if there would ever be a time when it didn't feel like Ian's touch had branded her.
Biting back a sigh, she turned, turning on a flirty smile that didn't reach her eyes.