English Lessons - 1/1 - Adult - Bill/Fleur
Title: English Lessons (1/1)
Author: silvernatasha
Rating: Adult
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Summary: Fleur feels that an extra English lesson would be beneficial. Bill/Fleur.
A/N: Written for smut_69 prompt #68: writer's choice.
Word Count: 1922.
In a previous life, Bill Weasley’s office had been a storage cupboard. The pokey little room was barely big enough to home his desk, chair and filing cabinet, let alone his bookcase. Although fairly small, his bookcase was crammed with books in varying states of decay, many bought at flea markets or in second-hand bookshops. Some of the less-perishable books were stacked in piles on the floor and a couple of these piles looked as though they would fall over at any moment. There were a few classic curse-breaking manuals, as well as a few more obscure and ludicrous theories. It never hurt to have a few ludicrous theories on hand.
The side of him that liked to look on the positive side of life told him that these piles of books reflected the dangerous and exciting part of his job. His negative side, however, told him cynically that the goblins didn’t appreciate his talents enough to get him a decent sized office.
Bill stretched his legs out under the table, his feet hitting the wall. He sighed and forced himself to look at the page of runes that he had just written in his small, inky handwriting. There was something not-quite-right about these runes, something that wasn’t a result of his penmanship, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. Glancing up at the clock, he had ten minutes until his lunch hour, and he was determined to get this work finished by then.
He took a sip of water and started at the beginning, murmuring runes under his breath. With a triumphant grin, Bill spotted the problem - two of the runes were in the wrong order - and reached for his wand to sort it. A quick tap of his wand to the parchment and the runes switched around. It was as easy as that and Bill was relieved to have finished. Adding the piece of parchment to the file to his left, Bill sealed it and dropped it into the top drawer of his filing cabinet, which would magically file it in the correct place for him.
As he stood up, Bill knocked over a pile of books and sank to his knees with a groan. It was times like this when he wished that he was back in Egypt under the baking sun and worrying about getting sunburn instead of doing tedious paperwork in a cramped office. Still, despite the perks of his job in Egypt, there was much more important work to be done in England for the Order. Work that he couldn’t exactly turn down, especially as the Ministry of Magic seemed to be turning a blind eye to the growing number of problems that You-Know-Who and his followers seemed to be causing.
Restacking the books into a more secure pile took a couple of minutes and a crafty charm and, when Bill straightened up, brushing off the knees of his robes, he was pleased to see that it was time for lunch. His stomach gave a rumble.
The cafeteria smelled somewhat like fish although, when Bill checked what was on offer, there was no fish on the menu.
“Hey, Bill.” Gary from personnel grinned at him, grabbing a tray and slipping behind Bill in the queue. The witch behind him rolled her eyes, but said nothing as all the human employees knew that Gary dealt with sorting out holiday time and it probably wasn’t a good idea to get on his bad side. “Have you seen the new bit o’ stuff from the continent?”
“Are you being a sexist prat again, Gary?” Bill asked, raising his eyebrows.
Gary shrugged. “What can I say? She brings out that side of me.” He nudged Bill with his elbow. “Seriously, mate, you should see her. Gorgeous long legs, eyes you could get lost in and… oh! The hair. Blonde. The blondest blonde that I have ever seen.”
“Think you’ve got a chance, do you?” Bill asked, smirking at Gary’s enthusiasm over the new girl. He added a sandwich to his tray, choosing one from the somewhat limited selection on offer.
“As good a chance as anyone, I reckon,” Gary said, taking an apple from the bowl of fruit. “Word has it she’s a bit of an ice queen. Aren’t all the good-looking ones like that, though? They just need someone to break through that icy exterior and give them a good warming. That’s what I think.”
“Is it?” Bill asked softly, amused as he added a banana to his tray.
Gary nodded. “Yeah, why not? Besides, she’s French. And how hot is that?” He grinned. “D’you reckon she’d give me French lessons?” He half-closed his eyes, voice taking on a breathless tone. “Un, deux… ménage a trois… soixante-neuf…” Opening his eyes, he gave Bill another nudge.
“One day,” Bill remarked, “I hope you’ll find a woman who actually appreciates that sort of thing.”
Looking miffed, Gary asked, “Are you saying Fleur won’t?” He gave a hum of excitement. “Fleur Delacour,” he breathed. “There’s something about that name, isn’t there?”
“If you say so,” Bill murmured, fishing a couple of coins out of his pocket to pay for his food. He handed them over to a bored-looking goblin (although, to be honest, most goblins looked bored) and stepped aside so that Gary could pay for his.
They found an empty table, Bill pushing aside of tray of rubbish so that he could sit down. Bill took of bite of his sandwich, not particularly impressed with the ham, and chewed slowly as Gary went on about the new French witch. Bill didn’t have the heart to tell him that they were already acquainted, especially as he seemed so enamoured.
Gary nearly choked on a mouthful of his Cornish pasty when the witch of his dreams appeared at their table. “Bonjour!” She smiled brightly at them.
“Er, hello,” Garry said, wide-eyed and looking like a love-sick teenager.
“Hi,” Bill replied with a nod.
Fleur perched herself on the edge of the table. “I was theenking, Monsieur Weasley, zat as I am not vairy ’ungry thees lunchtime, zat per’aps you would be interested een giving me zat Engleesh lesson you ’ave promised me?”
Bill grinned, glad that Fleur had chosen now to approach him in public; it had certainly shut Gary up. Their relationship was still somewhat new, and they didn’t exactly want to broadcast it around, but just to see the look on Gary’s face at that moment was worth it.
Fleur idly picked up the banana that was sitting on his tray and began to slowly peel it. Gary let out a strangled kind of yelp at the sight and Bill couldn’t help but shift in his chair. She really was a teasing minx, that one. He leant around Fleur to see Gary. “Er, mate. You don’t mind if I go and help Miss Delacour, do you?”
“I suppose not,” Gary told him gruffly.
“Excellent,” Fleur declared, standing up. “I theenk we shall go to your office, oui?”
“Yeah, that’s fine.” Bill’s office was just about big enough for him. So, with two people in there, they would have to be very close together. He had a feeling that that was what Fleur had in mind, anyway.
As he stood up to leave, Bill quickly ducked down to Gary, whispering, “I think you’ll find the French for ‘Bill Weasley’ is ‘lucky bastard’.”
He followed Fleur up the stairs to his office; once inside, he leant back against the door after he locked it, smirking at her. “A ‘lesson’ during our lunch hour?” he asked, raising his eyebrows. “Couldn’t you wait until after work?”
An impish smile playing on her lips, Fleur shook her head. “Non. I went into ze cafeteria to get food, mais when I saw you I was not hungry.” Fleur licked her lips, surreptitiously clearing Bill’s desk of any paperwork.
“Are you saying I make you lose your appetite?” Bill asked.
“Only in ze best way,” Fleur corrected. She sat on Bill’s desk, parting her legs. Her skirt, although short, was fairly modest. It lost all modesty, however, when it became obvious that she was not wearing knickers. “Anyway,” Fleur continued in almost a purr, “at ze moment I ’ave a vairy different appetite.”
“So I see,” Bill breathed. After checking that the door was well and truly locked, he moved forward to stand between her spread legs, kissing her hard. “I think I’ve just found my appetite,” he murmured breathlessly.
Fleur nodded, unbuttoning the top of Bill’s shirt so that she could run her hands over his bare chest. She gave a growl of delight and Bill kissed her again, his hands cupping her breasts. As he squeezed them, he felt Fleur’s hands trail down his body, fingers deftly unbuckling his belt and pushing his trousers down.
The outline of Fleur’s hardened nipples could be felt through her blouse and Bill ran his thumbs over them, making her groan against his mouth. Fleur toyed with the waistband of his boxers before suddenly pushing them down. Her hand clasped around his erection, making Bill gasp. “Not so hard,” he murmured, nipping at her earlobe.
“Sorry,” Fleur gasped as Bill’s hand moved between her legs, his fingers dipping into her wetness.
He gave a sharkish kind of grin as Fleur’s head fell back and she gave an enthusiastic sound of approval. “Do you want me to fuck you?” he asked her, gently working a finger into her pussy.
“Oui.”
“In English,” Bill demanded, his thumb brushing her clit. “Tell me what you want in English.”
Fleur swallowed, trying to catch her breath. “Yes,” she repeated shakily as Bill increased the pressure of his thumb. A whine was ripped from her throat as Bill added another finger, gently pumping them in and out of her. “Yes. I want you to fuck me. Please, Bill.”
Triumphant, Bill kissed her again. He shifted forward, Fleur’s impatient hands helping to guide him into her. His desk shook with the force of Bill’s thrusts, even knocking his quill-holder over. Fleur laughed against his lips, just spurring Bill on.
Arching her back, Fleur raised her hips to meet Bill’s thrusts. Her head nearly hit the wall a couple of times, but that was inconsequential as she clenched around his cock, legs wrapping around his waist to pull him closer. A pile of parchment slithered to the floor, but Fleur ignored it, her breathing hard and groaning as Bill’s large hand slipped up under her blouse to touch her breasts. He tugged on the cups of her bra, thumb running over a nipple and making her whine at the sensation.
Bill groaned against her neck. She was so fucking tight and so responsive to his touch that he didn’t know if he could last much longer. He had been with Fleur enough times to know when she was about to come, though, and he nearly lost control himself when she went over the edge. A few more thrusts, the desk bumping against the wall, and Bill came, his mind going blissfully blank for just a moment.
Smiling softly, Fleur toyed with a lock of red hair that had come loose from Bill’s ponytail. “Are we steel going to ’ave zat Engleesh lesson after work tonight?”
His breathing starting to still, Bill looked at her, a playful expression in her clear blue eyes. “You’re insatiable.”
Fleur kissed his cheek. “I am a perfectionist,” she declared. “I like to be vairy good at what I do.”
Author: silvernatasha
Rating: Adult
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Summary: Fleur feels that an extra English lesson would be beneficial. Bill/Fleur.
A/N: Written for smut_69 prompt #68: writer's choice.
Word Count: 1922.
In a previous life, Bill Weasley’s office had been a storage cupboard. The pokey little room was barely big enough to home his desk, chair and filing cabinet, let alone his bookcase. Although fairly small, his bookcase was crammed with books in varying states of decay, many bought at flea markets or in second-hand bookshops. Some of the less-perishable books were stacked in piles on the floor and a couple of these piles looked as though they would fall over at any moment. There were a few classic curse-breaking manuals, as well as a few more obscure and ludicrous theories. It never hurt to have a few ludicrous theories on hand.
The side of him that liked to look on the positive side of life told him that these piles of books reflected the dangerous and exciting part of his job. His negative side, however, told him cynically that the goblins didn’t appreciate his talents enough to get him a decent sized office.
Bill stretched his legs out under the table, his feet hitting the wall. He sighed and forced himself to look at the page of runes that he had just written in his small, inky handwriting. There was something not-quite-right about these runes, something that wasn’t a result of his penmanship, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. Glancing up at the clock, he had ten minutes until his lunch hour, and he was determined to get this work finished by then.
He took a sip of water and started at the beginning, murmuring runes under his breath. With a triumphant grin, Bill spotted the problem - two of the runes were in the wrong order - and reached for his wand to sort it. A quick tap of his wand to the parchment and the runes switched around. It was as easy as that and Bill was relieved to have finished. Adding the piece of parchment to the file to his left, Bill sealed it and dropped it into the top drawer of his filing cabinet, which would magically file it in the correct place for him.
As he stood up, Bill knocked over a pile of books and sank to his knees with a groan. It was times like this when he wished that he was back in Egypt under the baking sun and worrying about getting sunburn instead of doing tedious paperwork in a cramped office. Still, despite the perks of his job in Egypt, there was much more important work to be done in England for the Order. Work that he couldn’t exactly turn down, especially as the Ministry of Magic seemed to be turning a blind eye to the growing number of problems that You-Know-Who and his followers seemed to be causing.
Restacking the books into a more secure pile took a couple of minutes and a crafty charm and, when Bill straightened up, brushing off the knees of his robes, he was pleased to see that it was time for lunch. His stomach gave a rumble.
The cafeteria smelled somewhat like fish although, when Bill checked what was on offer, there was no fish on the menu.
“Hey, Bill.” Gary from personnel grinned at him, grabbing a tray and slipping behind Bill in the queue. The witch behind him rolled her eyes, but said nothing as all the human employees knew that Gary dealt with sorting out holiday time and it probably wasn’t a good idea to get on his bad side. “Have you seen the new bit o’ stuff from the continent?”
“Are you being a sexist prat again, Gary?” Bill asked, raising his eyebrows.
Gary shrugged. “What can I say? She brings out that side of me.” He nudged Bill with his elbow. “Seriously, mate, you should see her. Gorgeous long legs, eyes you could get lost in and… oh! The hair. Blonde. The blondest blonde that I have ever seen.”
“Think you’ve got a chance, do you?” Bill asked, smirking at Gary’s enthusiasm over the new girl. He added a sandwich to his tray, choosing one from the somewhat limited selection on offer.
“As good a chance as anyone, I reckon,” Gary said, taking an apple from the bowl of fruit. “Word has it she’s a bit of an ice queen. Aren’t all the good-looking ones like that, though? They just need someone to break through that icy exterior and give them a good warming. That’s what I think.”
“Is it?” Bill asked softly, amused as he added a banana to his tray.
Gary nodded. “Yeah, why not? Besides, she’s French. And how hot is that?” He grinned. “D’you reckon she’d give me French lessons?” He half-closed his eyes, voice taking on a breathless tone. “Un, deux… ménage a trois… soixante-neuf…” Opening his eyes, he gave Bill another nudge.
“One day,” Bill remarked, “I hope you’ll find a woman who actually appreciates that sort of thing.”
Looking miffed, Gary asked, “Are you saying Fleur won’t?” He gave a hum of excitement. “Fleur Delacour,” he breathed. “There’s something about that name, isn’t there?”
“If you say so,” Bill murmured, fishing a couple of coins out of his pocket to pay for his food. He handed them over to a bored-looking goblin (although, to be honest, most goblins looked bored) and stepped aside so that Gary could pay for his.
They found an empty table, Bill pushing aside of tray of rubbish so that he could sit down. Bill took of bite of his sandwich, not particularly impressed with the ham, and chewed slowly as Gary went on about the new French witch. Bill didn’t have the heart to tell him that they were already acquainted, especially as he seemed so enamoured.
Gary nearly choked on a mouthful of his Cornish pasty when the witch of his dreams appeared at their table. “Bonjour!” She smiled brightly at them.
“Er, hello,” Garry said, wide-eyed and looking like a love-sick teenager.
“Hi,” Bill replied with a nod.
Fleur perched herself on the edge of the table. “I was theenking, Monsieur Weasley, zat as I am not vairy ’ungry thees lunchtime, zat per’aps you would be interested een giving me zat Engleesh lesson you ’ave promised me?”
Bill grinned, glad that Fleur had chosen now to approach him in public; it had certainly shut Gary up. Their relationship was still somewhat new, and they didn’t exactly want to broadcast it around, but just to see the look on Gary’s face at that moment was worth it.
Fleur idly picked up the banana that was sitting on his tray and began to slowly peel it. Gary let out a strangled kind of yelp at the sight and Bill couldn’t help but shift in his chair. She really was a teasing minx, that one. He leant around Fleur to see Gary. “Er, mate. You don’t mind if I go and help Miss Delacour, do you?”
“I suppose not,” Gary told him gruffly.
“Excellent,” Fleur declared, standing up. “I theenk we shall go to your office, oui?”
“Yeah, that’s fine.” Bill’s office was just about big enough for him. So, with two people in there, they would have to be very close together. He had a feeling that that was what Fleur had in mind, anyway.
As he stood up to leave, Bill quickly ducked down to Gary, whispering, “I think you’ll find the French for ‘Bill Weasley’ is ‘lucky bastard’.”
He followed Fleur up the stairs to his office; once inside, he leant back against the door after he locked it, smirking at her. “A ‘lesson’ during our lunch hour?” he asked, raising his eyebrows. “Couldn’t you wait until after work?”
An impish smile playing on her lips, Fleur shook her head. “Non. I went into ze cafeteria to get food, mais when I saw you I was not hungry.” Fleur licked her lips, surreptitiously clearing Bill’s desk of any paperwork.
“Are you saying I make you lose your appetite?” Bill asked.
“Only in ze best way,” Fleur corrected. She sat on Bill’s desk, parting her legs. Her skirt, although short, was fairly modest. It lost all modesty, however, when it became obvious that she was not wearing knickers. “Anyway,” Fleur continued in almost a purr, “at ze moment I ’ave a vairy different appetite.”
“So I see,” Bill breathed. After checking that the door was well and truly locked, he moved forward to stand between her spread legs, kissing her hard. “I think I’ve just found my appetite,” he murmured breathlessly.
Fleur nodded, unbuttoning the top of Bill’s shirt so that she could run her hands over his bare chest. She gave a growl of delight and Bill kissed her again, his hands cupping her breasts. As he squeezed them, he felt Fleur’s hands trail down his body, fingers deftly unbuckling his belt and pushing his trousers down.
The outline of Fleur’s hardened nipples could be felt through her blouse and Bill ran his thumbs over them, making her groan against his mouth. Fleur toyed with the waistband of his boxers before suddenly pushing them down. Her hand clasped around his erection, making Bill gasp. “Not so hard,” he murmured, nipping at her earlobe.
“Sorry,” Fleur gasped as Bill’s hand moved between her legs, his fingers dipping into her wetness.
He gave a sharkish kind of grin as Fleur’s head fell back and she gave an enthusiastic sound of approval. “Do you want me to fuck you?” he asked her, gently working a finger into her pussy.
“Oui.”
“In English,” Bill demanded, his thumb brushing her clit. “Tell me what you want in English.”
Fleur swallowed, trying to catch her breath. “Yes,” she repeated shakily as Bill increased the pressure of his thumb. A whine was ripped from her throat as Bill added another finger, gently pumping them in and out of her. “Yes. I want you to fuck me. Please, Bill.”
Triumphant, Bill kissed her again. He shifted forward, Fleur’s impatient hands helping to guide him into her. His desk shook with the force of Bill’s thrusts, even knocking his quill-holder over. Fleur laughed against his lips, just spurring Bill on.
Arching her back, Fleur raised her hips to meet Bill’s thrusts. Her head nearly hit the wall a couple of times, but that was inconsequential as she clenched around his cock, legs wrapping around his waist to pull him closer. A pile of parchment slithered to the floor, but Fleur ignored it, her breathing hard and groaning as Bill’s large hand slipped up under her blouse to touch her breasts. He tugged on the cups of her bra, thumb running over a nipple and making her whine at the sensation.
Bill groaned against her neck. She was so fucking tight and so responsive to his touch that he didn’t know if he could last much longer. He had been with Fleur enough times to know when she was about to come, though, and he nearly lost control himself when she went over the edge. A few more thrusts, the desk bumping against the wall, and Bill came, his mind going blissfully blank for just a moment.
Smiling softly, Fleur toyed with a lock of red hair that had come loose from Bill’s ponytail. “Are we steel going to ’ave zat Engleesh lesson after work tonight?”
His breathing starting to still, Bill looked at her, a playful expression in her clear blue eyes. “You’re insatiable.”
Fleur kissed his cheek. “I am a perfectionist,” she declared. “I like to be vairy good at what I do.”