Quidditch - PG-13 - Marcus/Katie
Author: Gabs
Title: Quidditch
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Marcus has a problem.
Pairing: Marcus/Katie
Prompt: Rivelry
Prompts Complete: 17/50 (lions_serpents)
Words: 567
Disclaimer: Hp isn't mine, never will be, no credit taken, no money being made, I'm done :)
The feeling was exhilarating, from the wind sweeping into his face, making his hair fly back behind him, hurting his cheeks, his face, from the very force of it, to the stinging pain of the Quaffle slamming into his hand. He could feel it even with the protective gloves. The sound of his Quidditch Robes flapping behind him, sometimes lashing at his legs, giving a light sting he enjoyed so much.
The feeling of winning a game could be so ego boosting that he got carried away sometimes. Made taunts at other teams he felt just wasn’t good enough, even teams that were good.
And then there was the girls, and fans. The girls were great. If he wanted a one night stand, he had one, and no one complained. The girl went home happy with the story that she had screwed---or was screwed, depending on how you looked at it---a world famous Quidditch player, and maybe a souvenir to prove her story, and he was left alone.
The fans on the other hand, were probably the only downside to being a Quidditch player. Always going through his garbage bin, grabbing onto his clothing and stretching whatever he was wearing, trying to get a piece of his property.
There was another downside, but it could be looked at neutrally. He learned a long time ago to never date another Quidditch player. He should have known better in the first place, he thought with a grimace. He knew what Quidditch players were like, never going on a second date, leaving before dawn after a good bout of sex, and competitive to no end.
So why did he do it, he asked himself. Because she was taunting him, dammit, with her wheat colored blonde hair, flipping her single braid over her shoulder before signing autographs, giving him a very Slytherin like smirk, giving him leers that would leave him hard for hours even if he thought about Old Man Dumbledore in a thong. So when she finally asked him if he wanted to go on a ‘date’, he of course, said yes.
As if dating a Quidditch Player wasn’t bad enough, she just had to be on a different team, one just as good as his, the two teams going head to head every year for the Quidditch Cup.
And Ye Gods, was it the best sex he’d ever had. Complete with screaming orgasms, sweaty backs, roughness, scratching, biting, fighting for dominance, and for a few moments, after they were finished, both laid there panting, himself on top of her, his head buried in the crook of her neck. It was the closest thing he’d come to romantic since he was a teenager, and was attempting to date his girlfriend correctly.
He wiped the sweat off his brow, and lowered his broom back to the ground.
“Your plays have been off all afternoon, Flint,” she said doing that flippy thing with her braid. “Better get practicing.”
For the first time since Hogwarts, he had to try hard not to blush.
“Obviously, you’re going blind, Bell,” he retorted. “For I can see that your team is the one that’s failing.”
“Is that so?” she asked. “Well, then, why did we just win by one hundred points?”
And then she did one of those damned leers, a smirk, and then walked away, her Quidditch robes billowing out behind her.
Title: Quidditch
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Marcus has a problem.
Pairing: Marcus/Katie
Prompt: Rivelry
Prompts Complete: 17/50 (lions_serpents)
Words: 567
Disclaimer: Hp isn't mine, never will be, no credit taken, no money being made, I'm done :)
The feeling was exhilarating, from the wind sweeping into his face, making his hair fly back behind him, hurting his cheeks, his face, from the very force of it, to the stinging pain of the Quaffle slamming into his hand. He could feel it even with the protective gloves. The sound of his Quidditch Robes flapping behind him, sometimes lashing at his legs, giving a light sting he enjoyed so much.
The feeling of winning a game could be so ego boosting that he got carried away sometimes. Made taunts at other teams he felt just wasn’t good enough, even teams that were good.
And then there was the girls, and fans. The girls were great. If he wanted a one night stand, he had one, and no one complained. The girl went home happy with the story that she had screwed---or was screwed, depending on how you looked at it---a world famous Quidditch player, and maybe a souvenir to prove her story, and he was left alone.
The fans on the other hand, were probably the only downside to being a Quidditch player. Always going through his garbage bin, grabbing onto his clothing and stretching whatever he was wearing, trying to get a piece of his property.
There was another downside, but it could be looked at neutrally. He learned a long time ago to never date another Quidditch player. He should have known better in the first place, he thought with a grimace. He knew what Quidditch players were like, never going on a second date, leaving before dawn after a good bout of sex, and competitive to no end.
So why did he do it, he asked himself. Because she was taunting him, dammit, with her wheat colored blonde hair, flipping her single braid over her shoulder before signing autographs, giving him a very Slytherin like smirk, giving him leers that would leave him hard for hours even if he thought about Old Man Dumbledore in a thong. So when she finally asked him if he wanted to go on a ‘date’, he of course, said yes.
As if dating a Quidditch Player wasn’t bad enough, she just had to be on a different team, one just as good as his, the two teams going head to head every year for the Quidditch Cup.
And Ye Gods, was it the best sex he’d ever had. Complete with screaming orgasms, sweaty backs, roughness, scratching, biting, fighting for dominance, and for a few moments, after they were finished, both laid there panting, himself on top of her, his head buried in the crook of her neck. It was the closest thing he’d come to romantic since he was a teenager, and was attempting to date his girlfriend correctly.
He wiped the sweat off his brow, and lowered his broom back to the ground.
“Your plays have been off all afternoon, Flint,” she said doing that flippy thing with her braid. “Better get practicing.”
For the first time since Hogwarts, he had to try hard not to blush.
“Obviously, you’re going blind, Bell,” he retorted. “For I can see that your team is the one that’s failing.”
“Is that so?” she asked. “Well, then, why did we just win by one hundred points?”
And then she did one of those damned leers, a smirk, and then walked away, her Quidditch robes billowing out behind her.