How to Take a Joke (Fred/Angelina, NC-17)
Title: How to Take a Joke
Author: pumpkinpasty
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1377
Disclaimer: Harry Potter's not mine. He's JKR's. No copyright infringement intended. (Age disclaimer here.)
Summary/Notes: Angelina teaches Fred exactly how well she knows how to take a joke. A Fred/Angelina smutlet for spattergroit, because Davalyn is just the coolest. Pure, unbeta'd PWP. :D
Angelina Johnson knew how to take a joke. Growing up with three brothers, she'd developed a sort of immunity to them. It was, in fact, the reason she found it so natural and easy to be with Fred. He pulled great pranks, and she could appreciate a good one when she saw it. Not to mention he was fast and clever and sometimes the things he did were downright sexy.
Like that morning. It was stupid, she knew, to take food from him after denying him morning sex, but she was late and hung over and not nearly as on her guard as she usually was while at Fred and George's flat. Yes, she knew, it was foolish, and she knew Fred would tell her later that she deserved what she got. Which she did. Almost.
Because if there was one thing Angelina Johnson knew how to do better than take a joke, it was how to avenge a prank.
*
Angelina pulled her cloak tighter around her and stepped out onto the cobblestone street. Diagon Alley was just beginning to dim and quiet as the last few customers of the day hurried out through the morphing brick archway, clutching their parcels and bags. In the distance, she could see the flashing red sign that meant the joke shop was closing, and she set off at a brisk pace down the path. Around her, witches huddled together, their heads down, faces hidden. Angelina rolled her eyes and stretched herself to her full height. If Voldemort was going to attack Diagon Alley now, she thought, then so be it.
She approached the store just as Fred was locking the doors. She knocked on the wooden door, splotchy with peeling green paint, and Fred waved at her from the window. The a gust of wind almost knocked off her hat and she banged harder, shouting at him. A click of the latch and Fred was pulling her inside, brushing flakes of snow from her shoulders and tugging off her cloak. She rolled her eyes at the way he managed to let his hands graze her breasts, as though he thought she might not notice. She did, and smiled to herself.
It had all started when she arrived at Gringotts that morning. She worked there as a goblin-wizard liason, spending her days sitting behind a large mahogany desk and answering disgruntled customers' questions. That morning, shortly after she arrived and greeted her boss, an older goblin who was surprisingly cordial to wizards in general, her concentration began to slip.
It was Fred, sweaty and naked and gloriously freckled, and he was lifting her onto the mahogany desk, pressing kisses along her collarbone. “Fuck, Angelina,” he murmured against her skin, sliding a hand up her thigh and stroking the lacy fabric of her knickers. She whimpered and bucked her hips against his hand. He smiled and shook his head as his lips trailed lower, grazing the swell of her breast -
“Excuse me, ma'am?”
Angelina jumped, her face growing hotter as the elderly woman in front of her peered at her, concerned. “Are you all right, my dear? You look a bit feverish.”
Angelina nodded and answered the woman's questions, but as soon as the lady had gone, Fred was back.
“Fuck, you're wet,” he growled against her breast, slipping his thumb beneath her knickers and tracing slow circles around her nub. She cried out, digging her nails into his shoulders, and he -
“Break for lunch, Johnson,” her goblin boss growled to her. She gasped and stood up abruptly, so the blood rushed from her head and she felt dizzy. Hot and unbelievably aroused, Angelina wobbled to the bathroom and locked herself in a stall, her head in her hands.
“I want to taste you,” he whispered, and he kissed his way down her stomach, dipping his head between her thighs. He blew lightly across her curls, spread her legs, and thrust his tongue into her. He moved slowly inside of her, tasting her, fucking her until she was close - too close - and then he pulled away. She could feel him smiling and she moaned aloud, squirming against him. Gripping her tighter, he lifted her hips and flicked his tongue against her most sensitive spot, faster and faster and then she was crashing, falling, clenching, moaning his name -
“Angelina, are you in here? Break was over half an hour ago, and Carbeck's looking for you.”
Angelina leaned against the wall and tried to regain her breath. “I'm coming,” she said, wincing at her double entendre.
*
“So, my love, how were the disgruntled clients today?” Fred asked as he led her up the stairs to his flat.
Angelina shrugged. “Disgruntled, I guess. A bit more than usual, I daresay.”
Fred unlocked the door and they stepped in. Angelina smiled. Their flat was so... Fred and George, she thought. Crumpled bits of paper, large empty cauldrons, spellbooks, and bright orange socks littered the floor, and their living room was filled with pictures of Ron and Bill and the rest of the Weasleys playing Quidditch and having enormous meals.
“Why, then?” Fred said, when they'd made their way to his bedroom. Angelina turned to him, her brown eyes alight.
“Oh, I don't know. Maybe because someone had spiked their best liason's morning pumpkin juice with a Daydream Charm?”
Fred doubled over and roared with laughter. Angelina stood before him, her hands on her hips and the corners of her mouth twitching.
“You done, yet?” she asked. “Because I thought you might like to hear what sort of daydreams I had.”
Fred choked. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Angelina said, her voice low. “You were in them, you know.” She stepped close to him and inhaled his too-expensive cologne. “And you were really, really...” Her hands fiddled with the button of his jeans.
“Really, really what?”
“Really, really good.” She unzipped his trousers and pushed them down. His erection strained at his shorts, and with a swift movement, she relieved him of those, too. Then, without hesitating, she kissed him once and dropped to her knees.
“Angelina! What are you - fuck!”
She took the length of him into her mouth and sucked, pressing her tongue to the underside of his cock. Groaning, he thrust into her mouth.
She had only done this once before, and she had been completely knackered at the time, but she remembered now how mad it drove him. He kept whispering incoherent things, fisting his hand in her hair and pressing her face against him. Once or twice he moaned her name, his eyes locked on her head as it bobbed between his legs. She loved making him crazy this way, so crazy that she knew the only thing he was thinking of was her, and knowing how crazy she made him was the only thing that made it hard to do what she did next.
She swirled her tongue around him one last time, and just as he began to thrust faster into her warm, wet, mouth, she pulled away.
His mouth hung open, half in arousal and half in shock, as he met her eyes. Angelina licked her lips and stood up.
“Angelina, where are you - what are you - ” he stammered, sinking into the mattress. His erection still stood between them, and she fought the urge to lie down beside him and let him fuck her.
Instead, she grabbed her cloak off the hook and made for the door.
“Angelina!” His voice was indignant, and confused.
She whirled around, her eyes twinkling.
“I suggest taking a cold shower,” she said, biting her lip, “or try taking one of your daydream charms. That should do the trick, I think.”
Fred's eyes widened. Angelina twisted the doorknob and left, her cloak billowing behind her.
Fred flopped back against his pillows and shook his head, chuckling. That girl...
He didn't think she knew exactly who she was dealing with.
Because if there was one thing Fred knew how to do better than take a joke, it was how to avenge a prank.
*
Feedback is always appreciated. :)
Author: pumpkinpasty
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1377
Disclaimer: Harry Potter's not mine. He's JKR's. No copyright infringement intended. (Age disclaimer here.)
Summary/Notes: Angelina teaches Fred exactly how well she knows how to take a joke. A Fred/Angelina smutlet for spattergroit, because Davalyn is just the coolest. Pure, unbeta'd PWP. :D
Angelina Johnson knew how to take a joke. Growing up with three brothers, she'd developed a sort of immunity to them. It was, in fact, the reason she found it so natural and easy to be with Fred. He pulled great pranks, and she could appreciate a good one when she saw it. Not to mention he was fast and clever and sometimes the things he did were downright sexy.
Like that morning. It was stupid, she knew, to take food from him after denying him morning sex, but she was late and hung over and not nearly as on her guard as she usually was while at Fred and George's flat. Yes, she knew, it was foolish, and she knew Fred would tell her later that she deserved what she got. Which she did. Almost.
Because if there was one thing Angelina Johnson knew how to do better than take a joke, it was how to avenge a prank.
*
Angelina pulled her cloak tighter around her and stepped out onto the cobblestone street. Diagon Alley was just beginning to dim and quiet as the last few customers of the day hurried out through the morphing brick archway, clutching their parcels and bags. In the distance, she could see the flashing red sign that meant the joke shop was closing, and she set off at a brisk pace down the path. Around her, witches huddled together, their heads down, faces hidden. Angelina rolled her eyes and stretched herself to her full height. If Voldemort was going to attack Diagon Alley now, she thought, then so be it.
She approached the store just as Fred was locking the doors. She knocked on the wooden door, splotchy with peeling green paint, and Fred waved at her from the window. The a gust of wind almost knocked off her hat and she banged harder, shouting at him. A click of the latch and Fred was pulling her inside, brushing flakes of snow from her shoulders and tugging off her cloak. She rolled her eyes at the way he managed to let his hands graze her breasts, as though he thought she might not notice. She did, and smiled to herself.
It had all started when she arrived at Gringotts that morning. She worked there as a goblin-wizard liason, spending her days sitting behind a large mahogany desk and answering disgruntled customers' questions. That morning, shortly after she arrived and greeted her boss, an older goblin who was surprisingly cordial to wizards in general, her concentration began to slip.
It was Fred, sweaty and naked and gloriously freckled, and he was lifting her onto the mahogany desk, pressing kisses along her collarbone. “Fuck, Angelina,” he murmured against her skin, sliding a hand up her thigh and stroking the lacy fabric of her knickers. She whimpered and bucked her hips against his hand. He smiled and shook his head as his lips trailed lower, grazing the swell of her breast -
“Excuse me, ma'am?”
Angelina jumped, her face growing hotter as the elderly woman in front of her peered at her, concerned. “Are you all right, my dear? You look a bit feverish.”
Angelina nodded and answered the woman's questions, but as soon as the lady had gone, Fred was back.
“Fuck, you're wet,” he growled against her breast, slipping his thumb beneath her knickers and tracing slow circles around her nub. She cried out, digging her nails into his shoulders, and he -
“Break for lunch, Johnson,” her goblin boss growled to her. She gasped and stood up abruptly, so the blood rushed from her head and she felt dizzy. Hot and unbelievably aroused, Angelina wobbled to the bathroom and locked herself in a stall, her head in her hands.
“I want to taste you,” he whispered, and he kissed his way down her stomach, dipping his head between her thighs. He blew lightly across her curls, spread her legs, and thrust his tongue into her. He moved slowly inside of her, tasting her, fucking her until she was close - too close - and then he pulled away. She could feel him smiling and she moaned aloud, squirming against him. Gripping her tighter, he lifted her hips and flicked his tongue against her most sensitive spot, faster and faster and then she was crashing, falling, clenching, moaning his name -
“Angelina, are you in here? Break was over half an hour ago, and Carbeck's looking for you.”
Angelina leaned against the wall and tried to regain her breath. “I'm coming,” she said, wincing at her double entendre.
*
“So, my love, how were the disgruntled clients today?” Fred asked as he led her up the stairs to his flat.
Angelina shrugged. “Disgruntled, I guess. A bit more than usual, I daresay.”
Fred unlocked the door and they stepped in. Angelina smiled. Their flat was so... Fred and George, she thought. Crumpled bits of paper, large empty cauldrons, spellbooks, and bright orange socks littered the floor, and their living room was filled with pictures of Ron and Bill and the rest of the Weasleys playing Quidditch and having enormous meals.
“Why, then?” Fred said, when they'd made their way to his bedroom. Angelina turned to him, her brown eyes alight.
“Oh, I don't know. Maybe because someone had spiked their best liason's morning pumpkin juice with a Daydream Charm?”
Fred doubled over and roared with laughter. Angelina stood before him, her hands on her hips and the corners of her mouth twitching.
“You done, yet?” she asked. “Because I thought you might like to hear what sort of daydreams I had.”
Fred choked. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Angelina said, her voice low. “You were in them, you know.” She stepped close to him and inhaled his too-expensive cologne. “And you were really, really...” Her hands fiddled with the button of his jeans.
“Really, really what?”
“Really, really good.” She unzipped his trousers and pushed them down. His erection strained at his shorts, and with a swift movement, she relieved him of those, too. Then, without hesitating, she kissed him once and dropped to her knees.
“Angelina! What are you - fuck!”
She took the length of him into her mouth and sucked, pressing her tongue to the underside of his cock. Groaning, he thrust into her mouth.
She had only done this once before, and she had been completely knackered at the time, but she remembered now how mad it drove him. He kept whispering incoherent things, fisting his hand in her hair and pressing her face against him. Once or twice he moaned her name, his eyes locked on her head as it bobbed between his legs. She loved making him crazy this way, so crazy that she knew the only thing he was thinking of was her, and knowing how crazy she made him was the only thing that made it hard to do what she did next.
She swirled her tongue around him one last time, and just as he began to thrust faster into her warm, wet, mouth, she pulled away.
His mouth hung open, half in arousal and half in shock, as he met her eyes. Angelina licked her lips and stood up.
“Angelina, where are you - what are you - ” he stammered, sinking into the mattress. His erection still stood between them, and she fought the urge to lie down beside him and let him fuck her.
Instead, she grabbed her cloak off the hook and made for the door.
“Angelina!” His voice was indignant, and confused.
She whirled around, her eyes twinkling.
“I suggest taking a cold shower,” she said, biting her lip, “or try taking one of your daydream charms. That should do the trick, I think.”
Fred's eyes widened. Angelina twisted the doorknob and left, her cloak billowing behind her.
Fred flopped back against his pillows and shook his head, chuckling. That girl...
He didn't think she knew exactly who she was dealing with.
Because if there was one thing Fred knew how to do better than take a joke, it was how to avenge a prank.
*
Feedback is always appreciated. :)