Please to Be: Bill/Fleur (R)
Name: wolf_cat
Title: Please to Be
Rating: R
Pairing/s: Bill/Fleur
Summary: There was no such thing as a red-headed Veela, but if there had been, Fleur was certain that Bill Weasley might have been one.
Word Count: 772
Genre: SWS (Smut with substance)
Notes: For the Fantasy Fest: andrian1 -- Fleur/Bill First time together. Set at Hogwarts GOF era.
She fell under his spell almost instantly. Suddenly she knew what people around her must have felt when they first saw her: the lack of breath in her lungs and the complete inability to look away. There was no such thing as a red-headed Veela, but if there had been, Fleur was certain that Bill Weasley might have been one. She was prepared to give her life for him the moment that she saw him.
She was not, however, prepared to be required to convince him to admit that he wanted her as well. She thought it was obvious, though. Otherwise, it wouldn't have been so easy to get him alone in a bedroom.
"People are dying and the world could be ended the next day."
"You're too young," he said, touching her hair nevertheless.
"That would make you too old, but we are just right, I think." She knew men couldn't think when she stood this close to them. She knew because she couldn't think now, this close to Bill. She could only feel, and she felt that he was hers now. Felt it when she kissed him, in the way his body and hers melted together so beautifully.
"You think so?" he breathed.
"I know it is so." A murmured spell that removed the last barrier of clothing between them and she dropped her wand to the floor. "I know many things, Bill Weasley, but I think you may be teaching more to me."
"I-"
She silenced him with a hand over his mouth. "Please to be teaching without words."
He touched the tip of his tongue to the palm of her silencing hand and fluttered it against her skin. Fleur smiled, imagining other things he might do with his tongue. The corners of Bill's eyes crinkled with a grin, and suddenly she was lying on the narrow bed, looking up at him above her.
His hands skittered over her body, pausing here and there to tickle, to caress, to squeeze, to trace the muscle beneath the skin until he could have formed her likeness in clay from memory.
"Bill." His name was drawn from her lips by his fingertips between her legs.
"No words," he reminded her, taking the sounds from her with a kiss. With his mouth, his lips, his tongue, he retraced the path his hands had taken until she could not have formed a word of English had she wanted to. She let herself go with a wordless keening cry, her head thrown back and her body arched like a tightly strung bow.
He was beside her when she opened her eyes, watching her with a faint smile on his lips and an animal gleam in his eyes. She wanted everything then: to do to him what he was just done to her, to touch him everywhere, to make him pant and tremble as she did.
She grazed his chest with her fingernails and knew it was too late for that; he already shook and his heart beat like something trapped. She touched his cock and he gasped, his hips pressing toward her without thought.
She moved quickly, trapping him beneath her before he could be in control again. She simply felt him beneath her for a moment, felt his coiled power and craving and lust held in check for the moment. She bent low, her hair falling like silver water over his face and his chest as she slid her body along his until their moans echoed each other and they both might die if he was not inside her.
She did not stop until there was not even air between them and they were one flesh. They were still for the briefest of eternal moments and then he moved and she moved and there was friction and heat and hair and skin and him above her and her on top again and hands clutching hair and skin and bedclothes to remain anchored to earth then letting go again with grunting and screaming and near howling as they fell from the bed to the floor in a tangle of limbs and blankets and sweat and still they did not stop until not only were there no words but no sounds left in them at all.
They woke on the hearthrug, somehow on the opposite side of the room from the bed. They looked at each other and neither even tried to speak of what they knew was between them. Life and death and age didn't matter here when they could make time stand still for each other. It was all the same in the end.
Title: Please to Be
Rating: R
Pairing/s: Bill/Fleur
Summary: There was no such thing as a red-headed Veela, but if there had been, Fleur was certain that Bill Weasley might have been one.
Word Count: 772
Genre: SWS (Smut with substance)
Notes: For the Fantasy Fest: andrian1 -- Fleur/Bill First time together. Set at Hogwarts GOF era.
She fell under his spell almost instantly. Suddenly she knew what people around her must have felt when they first saw her: the lack of breath in her lungs and the complete inability to look away. There was no such thing as a red-headed Veela, but if there had been, Fleur was certain that Bill Weasley might have been one. She was prepared to give her life for him the moment that she saw him.
She was not, however, prepared to be required to convince him to admit that he wanted her as well. She thought it was obvious, though. Otherwise, it wouldn't have been so easy to get him alone in a bedroom.
"People are dying and the world could be ended the next day."
"You're too young," he said, touching her hair nevertheless.
"That would make you too old, but we are just right, I think." She knew men couldn't think when she stood this close to them. She knew because she couldn't think now, this close to Bill. She could only feel, and she felt that he was hers now. Felt it when she kissed him, in the way his body and hers melted together so beautifully.
"You think so?" he breathed.
"I know it is so." A murmured spell that removed the last barrier of clothing between them and she dropped her wand to the floor. "I know many things, Bill Weasley, but I think you may be teaching more to me."
"I-"
She silenced him with a hand over his mouth. "Please to be teaching without words."
He touched the tip of his tongue to the palm of her silencing hand and fluttered it against her skin. Fleur smiled, imagining other things he might do with his tongue. The corners of Bill's eyes crinkled with a grin, and suddenly she was lying on the narrow bed, looking up at him above her.
His hands skittered over her body, pausing here and there to tickle, to caress, to squeeze, to trace the muscle beneath the skin until he could have formed her likeness in clay from memory.
"Bill." His name was drawn from her lips by his fingertips between her legs.
"No words," he reminded her, taking the sounds from her with a kiss. With his mouth, his lips, his tongue, he retraced the path his hands had taken until she could not have formed a word of English had she wanted to. She let herself go with a wordless keening cry, her head thrown back and her body arched like a tightly strung bow.
He was beside her when she opened her eyes, watching her with a faint smile on his lips and an animal gleam in his eyes. She wanted everything then: to do to him what he was just done to her, to touch him everywhere, to make him pant and tremble as she did.
She grazed his chest with her fingernails and knew it was too late for that; he already shook and his heart beat like something trapped. She touched his cock and he gasped, his hips pressing toward her without thought.
She moved quickly, trapping him beneath her before he could be in control again. She simply felt him beneath her for a moment, felt his coiled power and craving and lust held in check for the moment. She bent low, her hair falling like silver water over his face and his chest as she slid her body along his until their moans echoed each other and they both might die if he was not inside her.
She did not stop until there was not even air between them and they were one flesh. They were still for the briefest of eternal moments and then he moved and she moved and there was friction and heat and hair and skin and him above her and her on top again and hands clutching hair and skin and bedclothes to remain anchored to earth then letting go again with grunting and screaming and near howling as they fell from the bed to the floor in a tangle of limbs and blankets and sweat and still they did not stop until not only were there no words but no sounds left in them at all.
They woke on the hearthrug, somehow on the opposite side of the room from the bed. They looked at each other and neither even tried to speak of what they knew was between them. Life and death and age didn't matter here when they could make time stand still for each other. It was all the same in the end.