springsmutfairy (springsmutfairy) wrote in hp_springsmut, @ 2008-03-16 15:55:00 |
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Entry tags: | fic, het, katie/oliver |
Happy Springsmut, idea_of_sarcasm!
Author: lady_green_bat
Recipient: idea_of_sarcasm
Title: Cabin Fever
Rating: R
Pairing: Katie Bell/Oliver Wood
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.
Summary: Katie hungers for many things but people just keep getting in her way.
Warnings: Sexual situations, frustration, language
Word Count: 2000+
Author's Notes: I'm a pinch-hitter so I haven't had as much time to write something extraordinary for you BUT I do hope you enjoy this. I love the pairing—although I'm more a fan of fanon than canon LOL Anyway, I hope you like it!
The five months of unconsciousness and atrophied limbs had been slept through and bearable at the time. She had dealt with levitation spells, walkers and sponge baths before. Physical therapy was a pain in the arse but not as painful as learning of those who had not been lucky enough to earn a stay in St. Mungo's. Katie Bell had had little to do but think and think and cry as she waited out her recovery time in the wizarding hospital. While she couldn't do much about the thinking, the tears had turned to determination, weakness to muscle, and it eventually became possible to laugh again without feeling the piercing ache of guilt for those unable to enjoy it. Yes, guilt was finished, done. It wouldn't bring anyone back or lessen the affects of one curse or spell, and it definitely wouldn't get the former Chaser back on a broom. Unfortunately an ache did remain, and as Katie lay disgruntled in her sanitized hospital bed, the two year anniversary celebration of Voldemort's defeat going on around her on this particular dismal Sunday morning, the blond-haired natural beauty was about ready to scream.
She hadn't been abandoned to languish in sterilized obscurity. There was no feeling of being institutionalized or neglected by friends and family—far far from it. Her father had been a constant throughout her recovery, reassuring and comforting and almost neurotically protective to the point where Katie had suggested a calming potion for his nerves; Angelina and Alicia visited regularly even after their own discharges; George had come several times to race her via "wheelie-chair" up and down the hallways; a multitude of healers and helpers and cleaners paraded her in and out of her shared room—two elderly witches who babbled continuously in Russian—day after day after day. Katie could count on one hand the number of times awake where she had been left to her own devices for more than half an hour.
The Healers were overcautious--Thanks, Da--and kept expecting Katie to overexert herself, rush over her rehabilitation, jump out her window in a bid for freedom. In the two minutes of solitude between Katie's bath and Inge and Anka's, where nimble fingers would rush beneath starched sheets for slick skin and press her clit furiously into a brief climax, Katie had thought fondly on flinging herself through that mocking pane of glass. She wanted out of the hospital, wanted her sweaty boyfriend chained to a big five star hotel bed, and a seven course dinner—all entrees of steak, lobster, salmon, and greasy chips—waiting for her. And a dessert cart.
Yes, her burly, joking, deliciously broad-handed boyfriend who had made it his life's mission to help reinstitute the United Quidditch Leagues back on British soil. Her big, beautiful, talented Keeper who was now acting as recruiter, negotiator, coach, and player, travelling the world trying to locate displaced rookies and professionals in hiding, working with the World Cup officials in proclaiming the safety of international games in the United Kingdom. Katie's side of the room was filled with balloons and cards and the odd stuffed Nessie that Oliver hadn't failed in Owling like clockwork every Friday since he had gone on tour. What she wouldn't have given for a few lines of rawness. "Och Katie! Yer Da will read everything. How could I show my face around if he knew all the dirty deeds I wanted to do to his little girl?" Katie rolled her eyes at the happy koala dancing across her most recent card. Forget her father! She desperately wanted to know what those lips and hips would do to her once she was finally given a clean bill of health and allowed to get on with her life.
Reaching for her hospital standard white fuzzy robe and ignoring the sudden fury of incomprehensible exclamations thrown in her direction by the two clucking grey hens at her unauthorized movement, Katie sighed and made her way warily out the door. There was nothing wrong with her now that a lovely Scottish cock couldn't cure and that was a fact.
The sounds of easygoing celebrants echoed along the corridors, through the ceiling, under her feet; the usual staid colour scheme littered with bright banners and the neon sunlight of popping confetti-filled balloons. Someone had charmed the ceiling to show fireworks—thankfully without the deafening 'Boom!' or dizzying after-explosion smell—and Katie followed the pinks and greens and cherry reds down to her wards family area, pressing herself into doorways to avoid the currently not-so-attentive attendants at the nurses station and random on-duty Healer. Other patients and visiting family members were too busy enjoying the day with loved ones to pay her much attention. "Honey I have to speak at the Ministry Luncheon on Sunday but I'll see you all Monday, I swear!"
Inching her way around a corner, her face purposely obscured by lank blond locks, Katie began to salivate at the delicious sight. Long tables filled with triple chocolate layer cakes, glistening treacle tarts, and sugar coated strawberries; a centerpiece of cold meats, smoked salmon, beef, and ham; tall glasses of pink champagne, snifters of brandy, butterbeer, and a swig or three of whiskey: Merlin, Katie missed her wand! She brushed a hand over her mouth to stop the hint of drool that threatened and immediately began to look for a way in without being stopped with embarrassing medical questions. Aren't you on a diet Miss Bell? Weren't you served breakfast in bed Ma'am? What the bloody hell are you doing with that flask Katie?! Yeah. Horny and hungry? Katie was getting a plate of sweets even if it killed her.
She had just gone through a mental list of how much she could snag in the shortest amount of time when a gruff, genial laugh caught her attention. There, chatting with her physical therapist, a wrapped arrangement of daffodils and clover balanced under one arm and champagne and a plate of goodies in either hand, stood a damp haired, red cheeked Oliver Wood. Katie's jaw dropped. What was he doing back from the South Pacific this early? And why had he stopped to eat before coming to see her?!
Like a rumpled, hospitalized spy, Katie kept to the walls, head down, with a stolen cup of water in hand to keep up appearances as she staked out her quarry. If he would just get away from Stan the Exercising Sadist Katie would have a chance of hauling her man down—Oh! There was her chance! Picking up the pace, the blond had pinched the Keeper's bum and scooted down a semi-vacant hallway, leaving her boyfriend with a salacious wink and a 'Hurry-the-hell-up!' gesture.
"'Atie?!" Oliver's warm chocolate eyes protruded as he turned the corner, trying to speak around a cream puff with his items still balanced in hands and under arm. She took the momentary semblance of disbelief to lean in for a quick kiss, catching some of the sweet confection on her mouth and closing her eyes with a satisfied, impish grin. "I thought ya were on bed rest?" he blustered after swallowing visibly, leading Katie to think that he'd had more than just one sociable before she'd found him just moments before. "When the bloody hell did ya get out on the move?" Watching his plate greedily, Katie quickly selected a cold Nanaimo bar with drooling curiosity at the layers of icing then fisted her hand in the russet material of his robe and tugged, eyes on the lookout for questioning staff members.
"Less questions, more walking." The cool chocolate and coconut slipped down her deprived throat and Katie almost moaned.
Blessed, blessed sugar.
"When did you get back from Australia?"
". . .This morning," Oliver's eyebrows furrowed in confusion, not quite understanding what was happening. "I rushed right over luv but. . .but Katie," he couldn't hold back the snort when the blond reached back to snatch a cookie but swiftly recovered. "Katie I'm sorry but I was starving and the bloody portkeys, I—I'm bloody knackered and—"
"And the champagne really helped you there, eh Oliver?" Katie hissed with a grin, pulling the love of her life into the ladies loo when she spotted one of her nurses coming down the corridor. Smothering Oliver's very unmanly yelp with a finger to his lips, Katie took hold of his glass and indulged herself, humming happily as the bubbles danced across her tongue. Her thumb moved up to caress his stubbled chin, fingers brushing over full lips, knuckles moving over cheekbones. . .oh Merlin the champagne was fantastic! "Replenish this can you?"
"What?"
"Replenishment charm Oliver. I don't have my wand and I'm bloody hungry too!" But she had already placed the flute back in his empty hand and pushed open his robe, searching through the fabric for the oak weapon, despite Oliver's incredulous expression. "Oh forget it! I'll do it myself!"
"Ka—Katie! Och luv, are ye out of yer minOH!"
Brown eyes swiftly met blue as one searching hand met the front of dark corduroy trousers. "Katie?" The blond bit her bottom lip. He smelled wonderful, musky and warm; her taste buds were twirling, driven with a new surge of flavour and decadence, and oh how she just wanted to be touched like a woman not an experiment. Katie stepped closer and cupped him fully, nose gently nuzzling the edge of Oliver's jaw.
"I am very, very hungry Oliver."
"What do you two think you're doing?!" The disgruntled, disgusted voice made the couple jump as a woman exited one cubicle to be met with Katie and Oliver's groping.
"Ahhh. . ." Katie's mouth slowly dropped. Why were people so quiet whilst peeing in public damn it?! "Here!" She wrenched the flower arrangement from under Oliver's arm and pushed it into the matronly woman's hands before dragging her boyfriend immediately back out into the hallway.
"Well that was awkward," Oliver sputtered, following Katie's single-minded determinedness as she led him along. "I thought ya liked daffodils? Let's just go back to yer room luv."
"There's two old ladies back there Oliver," Katie grunted, shoving another cookie into her mouth. "And," she cut him off before something ridiculously logical could be said, "if we sit down for a minute it'll be me in your lap! So keep those eagle eyes open and find us a room or a corner or a. . ."
"Or a closet?" Oliver gestured with his serving plate of sweets towards a janitor's closet, a large yellow 'Employees Only' sign emphasizing the forbidden and putting up a possible red flag in the couple's intimacy plans. Katie only smiled and relieved Oliver of the booze and treats.
"Open the door baby before some meddling Healer thinks you're taking advantage of poor little—" Now it was Oliver's lips on hers, one arm wrapping around her robe covered body, pulling her flush to his Keeper's physique as a swish and flick and whispered 'Alohamora' brought them their first bit of privacy in what seemed to be a lifetime. Dark, cramped, and distinctly medicinal smelling: Katie couldn't have cared less. A 'Lumos' and several clumsy changes of hands later and Katie's bathrobe was on the floor, pyjama pants stuck on one ankle with a mouth full of sugar-coated strawberry as Oliver chugged what was left of the champagne. She pulled at the collar of his jumper.
"Christ ya taste good luv," Oliver groaned against her mouth, lips and tongues and teeth clashing while hands pressed and gripped, wanting to touch everything yet reluctant to leave rediscovered flesh or secret weak spots. "I missed ya Katie. I missed ya so bloody much."
"Less tmmmm." Katie arched into the warm palm enclosing her breast, breath catching as he strummed her nipple. "More. Give me all of you Oliver. Remind me baby, remind me."
They stumbled back to the door, Oliver lifting one milky thigh over his naked hip, trousers around his knees and Katie's arms circling, caressing, urging. She dropped open-mouthed kisses as far as she could reach; her stomach tingled against his wool sweater as those beautiful broad hands lowered Katie down, holding her against the door with a look of such tenderness and desire that she couldn't look away even when his hips began to thrust. Up and up and up until she didn't think it was possible to go any further, to feel more, touch more—Oh Goddess! His hands were underneath her arse, spreading and holding her thighs; she curved with the strength of his body and his cock, in and up with thorough scattering of sensation.
THUMP! THUMP! THUMP!
"Who the bloody feckin' 'ell is in there?!"
NO NO NO NO NO!!!
Katie reared forward and snagged Oliver's earlobe between her teeth.
"Don't you stop Oliver!" she almost cried, nails digging into the back of his neck. "Don't you dare stop! Don't you—OH!—don't you leave me!" She held him tightly, the thought of being away from him, untouchable, a label, horrendous. His thrusts became shorter, firmer, and they were both so close and the knocking outside wouldn't stop and Katie was suddenly thankful that Stan worked her so hard.
"Och Katie I—"
"Oliver, there! There!"
"Yain't allowed in there ye bloody troublemakers!"
"GO AWAY!"
Their combined screams carried them over, Katie clenching and Oliver releasing, both pushing everything into the other. And as their breathing calmed, blue eyes meeting brown once more Katie couldn't help but laugh, her arms still holding onto his solid shoulders.
"You have. . .you have chocolate on your neck."
"We should both get cleaned up then yea?"
An Argus Filch look-alike that Katie recognized all too well was beet red and cursing bloody murder once Katie and Oliver deigned to leave the sanctuary of the closet, both a little ruffled but more than decent in appearance.
"Bell. Bell?! Healers ain't cleared ye yet! What the feck ye think ye doin'?"
Katie looked down at her hand resting on the fuzzy collar of her robe, glanced up at Oliver and smiled.
"Sorry Mr. Tericrantz. We left you cookies though."