Happy Springsmut, inspired_ideas! Author:midnightblue88 Recipient:inspired_ideas Title: Off the Record Rating: NC-17 Pairing(s): Kingsley/Rita Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended. Summary: Kingsley needs information, but Rita isn't going to give in so easily this time. Warnings: semi-public sex Word Count: ~1600 Author's Notes: Thank you to my wonderful beta readers and to the Springsmut mods for their hard work running this fest. inspired_ideas, I really hope you enjoy this!
Off the Record
She showed up late, which was unusual. Her cloak was heavy with rain, her hair was dripping, and her blouse looked like it was pasted to her body with a Sticking charm. As soon as she caught sight of him, her bright red lips curled into a lascivious grin.
"Auror Shacklebolt," she greeted him as she approached the table. Reflexively, he stood from his chair. "Oh, don't stand up for me. I apologize for keeping you waiting. Isn't this storm just dreadful?"
Kingsley offered what he hoped was a pleasant smile. "Thank you for meeting me, Ms. Skeeter."
"You know that I could never refuse an invitation from the head of the Auror department," she said. "You have me wrapped around your little finger and you know it!" She removed her cloak and a ringlet of dark blonde hair fell forward, dripping rainwater onto her chest. The droplet raced along the slope of her breast and disappeared under her shirt.
"I am sorry that you were caught in the storm," he said politely.
"Is controlling the weather among one of your many talents?" she asked with a wink, performing a drying spell on her cloak and then draping it on the back of her chair. He waited for her to perform another one on herself, but she took a seat and looked up at him, her perfectly shaped eyebrows arched expectantly.
Kingsley wasn't very fond of these meetings with Rita. He considered himself a patient man, but with Rita he often found his patience sorely tested. She enjoyed withholding information and had a knack for making him feel less like a seasoned Auror and more like a dog on a racetrack, chasing after a dead rabbit that she kept snatching out of his grasp.
"I was hoping you could do me a favor," he said carefully.
Rita smiled at him with what looked like affection. "A favor?"
Kingsley sat up straighter in his chair, ready to get down to business. "You know Richard Amis?"
"Of course," Rita answered automatically. "He was such a help to me when I was investigating the German Ministry back in November. A bit quiet at first, but he really opened up once he'd had a few pints. Such a shame about the leg, though," she added in a conspiratorial whisper.
Kingsley nodded impatiently. "I need you to set me up with him. We are investigating an important case and we think he might be helpful."
Rita's eyebrows arched even further, if that was possible. "Oh? What kind of case?"
Kingsley eyed the quill working furiously next to Rita's shoulder. "You know I cannot speak to you about an ongoing investigation."
Rita tsked lightly and a drop of rainwater fell from her earlobe. Kingsley did not follow its path this time. "You know that everything you say to me will be held in the strictest confidence." She waved her hand and the quill became still. "Surely you trust me, don't you, Kingsley?"
"Sometimes I do not know if I can," he answered honestly.
Rita's lower lip protruded in a well-practiced pout. "Well, I could say the same about you, couldn't I? Last time we spoke you weren't very kind at all. Couldn't help me out with one teensy, tiny request."
"You were asking for confidential information about an eyewitness in an ongoing murder investigation," he snapped, unable to keep his irritation under wraps this time.
"I told you I wasn't going to print it," she reminded him, her voice silky but sharp along the edges. "I told you it was off the record."
"And how do I know that you are telling me the truth?" he asked, gesturing with his hands. "How do I know that you will not lie to me and then go back to your newspaper and write an article about me? I cannot trust you."
Rita's eyes flashed for the briefest instant β part anger, part genuine shock β before the mask slid back into place. "Well, then," she said carefully, "if you can't trust me then I suppose this meeting is useless, isn't it?" She stood and pulled her cloak from the back of her chair. "Good luck with your case, Mr. Shacklebolt."
Kingsley watched her disappear through the pub's front door and felt his hands tighten into fists under the table. Without thinking, he grabbed his own cloak and stormed past the bartender, shoving the door open with one hand.
He found her in the alley next to the bar, tucking her quill into her bag and reaching behind her ear for her wand. The charm on her make-up must have started slipping because she had a smear of mascara below one eye. She looked up as he approached, startled by the sound of his boots splashing through a puddle.
"This is not a game!" he shouted over the rain rushing down around him. "This is not one of your silly articles! This is important!"
Rita's face hardened at the word "silly" and she took a determined step towards him. "The only important thing I see is your gigantic ego!" she shouted. "You deign to throw me scraps of useless information whenever it pleases you, but the moment you need something you don't hesitate to call me upon me in the middle of a thunderstorm, demanding that I hand over my hard-won resources. I'm not your lapdog, Kingsley!"
Kingsley stood there for a long moment, with the rain running down his face and his blood pumping wildly through his veins. For a moment he hated her, really hated her. For being absolutely wrong and maybe a little bit right, for not understanding why he needed this, for wearing a shirt so thin that he could see her nipples poking through.
"What?" she snapped finally, when he didn't respond. For a moment she looked anxious, vulnerable. He took a step towards her and she took an instinctive step back. Another and he had her backed up against the wet brick wall.
"Don't think you can intimidate meβ" Rita started, and was cut off by Kingsley's mouth on hers.
She froze for a moment, too surprised to react, but then she relaxed and her lips parted under his. Her kiss was gentle, unexpectedly tentative, and he felt the shards of anger softening into something he knew only as need. He slid his hand along her waist and she settled one hand on his shoulder, her fingers curling over a handful of his sleeve.
After a moment, she pulled back just far enough to look him in the eye. "I'm not giving you Richard Amis," she hissed.
"Maybe you should not talk so much," Kingsley suggested, and leaned forward to seal his mouth over hers again.
This time, neither of them were gentle. Kingsley pushed her flat against the wall, using one hand to keep her pinned and sliding the other over her arse. His fingers found the buttons of her shirt, pulling at them one by one until her bra was exposed. She brushed his hands aside and unhooked it from the front, letting it fall open to reveal a set of large, pale breasts wet from the rain. He cupped a bare breast in one hand and slid his thumb over the hardened nipple.
"Oh, yes," she moaned when he bent down to take a nipple in his mouth. He felt a hand settle against the back of his head as he rolled his tongue over the little nub, eliciting another impatient moan that went straight to his cock.
Kingsley thought that he had never been so hard in all his life. He slid his hand up Rita's thigh, pushing her skirt up around her hips. Water dripped onto her legs, running over her knee and disappearing into the crease of her thigh as he lifted one leg off the ground.
Rita gasped as he pulled the crotch of her knickers away and slid one long finger through her folds, smearing her moisture over her clit. Her knees buckled slightly, and she tightened her grip on his shoulder to keep herself upright. "Oh god, yes," she said when he rubbed the pads of his fingers over it again. She arched back against the wall and started pushing herself against his hand in an unsteady rhythm. Her whole body was trembling, and he felt his own arms shaking from the effort of keeping her upright.
"Oh!" she cried out suddenly, her nails digging into his shoulder as she came. If it weren't for the hand under her knee and the wall at her back, she might have fallen. Kingsley continued stroking her until her thighs stopped shaking and her breathing returned to normal.
"Well," she said finally, reaching up to straighten her glasses. "That was not quite what I expected when I agreed to meet you tonight."
"It was unexpected for me as well," he agreed, wiping rainwater from his cheeks.
Rita cocked her head to the side and regarded him closely. "You know, I might have been a bit harsh in my earlier assessment of our arrangement."
Kingsley lifted his eyebrows. "Oh?"
She nodded and pulled her wand out from behind her ear. "Perhaps we should continue this discussion under more civilized conditions," she suggested, taking his arm. "I'm sure we can come to an agreement that satisfies both of us."