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Tweak says, "Taters...Po-Ta-Toe!!!"

Merwyn Finwick (fallasleep) wrote in finnigans_rpg,
@ 2015-08-06 02:03:00

Entry tags:

character: gwenog jones, character: merwyn finwick

Who: Gwenog & Merwyn
What: Hooking up yo
Where: Gwenog's place
When: BACKDATED February 2003
Rating: NC-17 - sex be here

The beginning of the year always tended to be a dark time for Merwyn. He'd never really recovered from the betrayal of his team - his Captain specifically - and being cut from the Tornados, despite his protestations and pretence to the contrary, and apart from the time of year having a naturally dampening effect on his mood it was also around this time that he'd had his first bout of narcolepsy which was the beginning of the end of his Quidditch career.

Every year since then around this time he'd been admitted to hospital with 'accidental' self-injuries, and while none of them had been successful thus far it wasn't for want of trying. He'd stumbled his way into Finnigan's, already drunk and supported by fairweather friends who were tapping him for his cash. They propped him up somewhere out of the way and took his wallet, leaving to get their use out of it while Merwyn was left on his own.

He was sobering up by the time the night drew to a close and he realised with a heavy heart that he'd lost all his new friends and his wallet too. He felt miserable and lonely (and still a little drunk) and when he bumped into Gwenog Jones, a fellow Quidditch player and a woman he'd admired for the entirety of her career, he couldn't help clinging onto the only port in a storm. "Gwenog! It's Merwyn, from... I used to play." That stumble was a painful one. "C'n I get you a drink?" He asked before remembering that he didn't have his wallet. "Oh, I mean.... I don't have my wallet right now. I'm sorry." he was more affected by that failure than he should have been; he looked at Gwenog like he'd broken her best broom or shot her cat or something.

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fallasleep
2015-10-05 10:21 pm UTC (link)

Merwyn made a sound on the cusp of audible, a little whisper of encouragement when Gwenog's hand went to the back of his head, pushing into his hair like that. He yielded obediently to the insistence of her mouth on his but was left mournful and bereft when she pulled back, his face flushed and his breathing already catching. He smiled at her though and followed her loyally, as though there was any doubt that he'd follow her in.

He liked the small, if brief, touch of her hand around his wrist and as focused as he was on her, he couldn't help being distracted by the interior of the house. He looked around unabashed and unashamed of his awe, impressed by the space and the sleek lines that still managed to be warm and welcoming. "Your house is lovely!" he enthused earnestly, his wide eyes scanning the kitchen and coming to rest on Gwenog where an entirely different look came into his eyes.

She looked him up like he was for sale and she was going to buy him and all that made him feel was an electric shiver of need. He licked his lips, his mouth dry, and took a few steps towards her before stopping; he was hesitant in his movements but not from uncertainty, more like he couldn't believe he was here and was certain he wasn't worthy enough to touch her. He felt like that about a lot of the people he slept with in actuality, but the difference was all the more stark here, a fellow (once-fellow) Quidditch player, a woman, someone self possessed and confident and stunning against his own washed out insecurity.

He felt like a mouse before a cat, or an incest about to be pinned to a piece of card and he felt more than the faint stirrings of arousal fight the alcohol in his system. He reached a hand to where hers had been on his wrist and rubbed his thumb against it like he could still feel her grip there, something pleasant crawling up his spine.

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