wl_mods (wl_mods) wrote in wizard_love, @ 2008-03-19 13:59:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | *fic, katie, marcus |
Special delivery for wizard_love
Title: Tequila Sunrise
Author: mydocuments
Recipient: wizard_love
Rating: NC-17 (Adult)
Pairing:Marcus Flint/Katie Bell
Word Count: 4,223
Warnings: Mild spoilers for DH. Explicit sex between two consenting adults. Alcohol use. Mild dirty talk.
Notes: The original request was for Marcus/Katie, wall-sex, partially clothed sex, in control women, witty banter, and happy endings. I wanted to see how two characters interacted out of their own surroundings – it’s like being on vacation. What happens in Mexico stays in Mexico. The last line from Marcus is of course a nod to our sweet little Victor Krum, and his Deathly Hallows cameo.
The night was warm and humid, the air heavy with the promise of coming rain. Marcus couldn’t help but sneer at the insipid music and festive party decorations strung up around the patio of their hotel. They were close enough to the sea to taste the salt on their tongues, but the breeze coming off the water did little for the uncomfortable temperature. It was like a little slice of hell, sitting there surrounded by red and green paper lanterns, Muggle fairy lights, and the tissue paper remnants of a piñata from earlier, with the heavy air pressing down on him and his shirt sticking to his chest. There was indecipherable music playing the speakers, Muggle music from the wireless interspersed with static bursts and commercials. Marcus hated this country – hated Mexico with their sweltering weather, their unbearable food, and their fucking Quidditch team. Puddlemere United was ranked fourth in Europe, but were somehow down 3-2 in a series of seven with the Baja Brujos. Worst of all were these Latin-American wizards who lived among Muggles, going to school and work with them just as free as you please!
A slim waitress with dark hair sidled up to the table Marcus was occupying, sitting down four drinks; tequila in shot glasses with a wedge of lime. Arthur Figby, captain of Puddlemere this season and a former Slytherin beater, raised his glass with a toast to fair play. Marcus smirked, along with their second beater, Nick Jameson, a Ravenclaw graduate two years ahead of Figby, and the oldest player on the team. Oliver Wood, their keeper, frowned at the three other men, but without any real rancor. Despite the reputation that Slytherin had during their school years, both Arthur and Marcus played Quidditch by the rules, more or less. Truth be told, toasts like these were made solely to irritate Wood, who stubbornly clung to his Gryffindor ideals of virtue, sunshine, and fluffy little puppy dogs. The four men bolted their shot, following the burning liquor with bites of their salted, bitter limes. It may not be Old Ogden’s, Marcus had realized the first night in country, but this Muggle liquor could still get you thoroughly pissed.
Marcus shook his head a little; fighting the urge to chase his shot with a swig of the cheap beer, that one of the girls had left on the table. This Mexican liquor might be potable, but for beer, you couldn’t beat and English Stout or Porter. The beer in these clear bottles closely resembled piss, and Marcus had posited the night before that they likely tasted remarkable similar as well.
The girls were dancing in a loose circle, moving in time to the foreign beat in a giggling, drunken group. Anna MacGuire, their seeker, had opted for education at Durmstrang, despite her Scottish upbringing and proximity to Hogwarts. Narcisse and Marguerite Girard, sisters from Beaubatons, were the second chaser and reserve seeker, respectively. With their honeyed good looks and graceful disposition, the two girls had quickly become fan favorites, despite the animosity traditionally present between England and France. That left only Katie Bell, who Marcus alternatively loved and loathed. He watched her dance for a few minutes – she was wearing a simple orange blouse and a loose cotton skirt that looked in danger of slipping clear off her narrow hips. Marcus blinked and shook his head again. He was half hard without even realizing it.
Katie moved along to the beat of the music, wiggling her hips in a motion that was more from Persian belly dancer than Spanish senorita. She was slightly drunk on cheap Mexican beer taken on an empty stomach. Perhaps, she thought idly, she should sit down after his song and order something from the kitchen. It would have been the sensible thing to do, but lately, Katie hadn’t been feeling very sensible. At first, it had been little things – dancing all night in pointy heels, or ordering a second, third, or fourth glass of wine with her dinner, much to her mother’s chagrin. Then her recklessness had grown – she loved flying too fast, so that every time she abruptly changed directions mid-flight, her broom jerked and she had to fight to keep her seat.
Katie explained it all away by saying she just wanted a chance to live the way she should have right after her graduation. Even after the Dark Lord had been killed, it had been dangerous in their world. Death Eaters that had gotten away seemed intent on causing as much damage and destruction as possible before their eventual capture. For nearly two years after, it hadn’t been safe to carry on the way a newly graduated, seventeen year old might have normally done. So here she was, at twenty-three, feeling as though she hadn’t even had a chance to be a kid before she had been forced to settle down and become a dour, straight laced adult. Luckily, before she had bored herself to tears working for a barrister’s office, she was given the opportunity to try-out for Puddlemere United. She’d been reserve chaser for two years, and this was her first year as a starting player. While all of her friends were married and starting families, Katie felt like she was finally free. This recklessness, this need to chase the dragon with every turn, was perhaps the only excuse Katie had to explain away her infatuation with Marcus Flint.
She looked behind her shoulder at that thought, and was startled to see Marcus staring at her like he might burn through her with his eyes. When he realized she was staring back, Marcus jumped, directing his gaze away from her, glancing disinterestedly toward the ocean in the distance. Katie couldn’t help but follow as he reached down to adjust himself – he had an erection. She bit her lip and smiled. She supposed there were worse things in the world than being pursued by Marcus Flint.
The Slytherin-Gryffindor Quidditch rivalry was legendary among Hogwarts, and it had hardly gotten nastier than when Katie and Marcus were in school. It was fate, or more likely, irony, that put them playing for the same team – in fact, playing as two of the three chasers for Puddlemere. Once they were outside of Hogwarts, away from the rivalries and tensions that flourished among the students, Katie realized that Marcus wasn’t quite the wretched little troll that she remembered from her school days. He was still the snobby, well-off, well-connected pureblood that she remembered from school, but the more she got to know him, the more she realized that her past assumptions of him were a little too easy. The sneering, upper crust, more posh than the Queen herself routine was better suited to Marcus’s younger brother Dex, who had an air of waifishness and aristocracy about him that Marcus lacked. Despite his pressed slacks and neat dress shirts, Marcus was almost brutish; he was stronger, less refined, and less restrained than most of his Hogwarts cronies. It was a combination of that, along with his Slytherin arrogance, that made him so unlike any man Katie had ever chased at Hogwarts.
Katie watched as Marcus stood, ostensibly to head up to his room for the night. He looked so out of place in khakis and his white linen shirt, his steps weaving just slightly from the tequila he’d imbibed. He glanced back at her just as he took the first step up the open-air stairs. She nodded her head just slightly, and then turned her attention back to her teammates. After the end of the song, Katie excused herself, saying that she was headed to her room. After all, she had a big day tomorrow, with a rather decisive game to be played at 7:00 pm.
Marcus idled in the stairwell leading to the second floor of the hotel. He was on a carpeted landing where the stairs changed directions, and was leaning against the brightly painted walls, faced so he could simultaneously see anyone going up or down. He watched as Katie came around the corner and hesitated when she saw him standing there. Her skirt had slid down so low on her hips that he could see the flat expanse of her stomach, her sharp hipbones, and just the barest edge of her knickers. Marcus swallowed; he was hard again, after nine days of doing without and being so busy that he barely had even had a chance to bring himself off.
Katie started up the stairs, stumbling a bit in a combination of her loose sandals and inebriation. It seemed every time she met with Marcus, neither of them were entirely sober. She admired the picture he made, leaning the wall in casual indifference, as if she couldn’t see his erection straining against his trousers. Katie bit her lip – Marcus might represent so much of what she found absolutely abhorrent, but damned if he wasn’t one of the best men she’d ever had in her bed.
She reached the top of the landing where he was. “Took you long enough, didn’t enough?” He asked in his flat, clipped accent.
Katie shrugged, “I couldn’t exactly follow you up the stairs like a little lost puppy dog, could I?”
She had that grin, Marcus noted, that at once made her seem both an innocent lover and experienced seductress. Marcus had learned early that when she smiled like that, he was in for a very good time.
“Poor baby,” Katie practically purred, “I hope you weren’t waiting for too long.” Her voice was practically a contralto that was so unlike her normal vice that it had startled Marcus the first time she’d spoken in it. Now it just made him smile – sometimes Katie tried so hard to be a vamp, even though he couldn’t keep his hands off her when she wore only a ratty t-shirt and sweats.
Marcus took hold of Katie’s thin wrist, drawing her close to him so he could feel the hem of her skirt brushing against his shins. Katie put both of her hands on the swell of Marcus’s chest, stepping closer to him until she could feel his erection pressing against her stomach. He drew in a shaky breath.
“Miss Bell,” his voice was rough. “Should we head to my room?”
She ground against him, bringing her hand down to squeeze his firm arse. “Don’t be stupid, Flint.” She rose up on her toes until her mouth was hovering just over his. “My room is much closer.” Katie kissed him then, and his hands came down to cup her own arse, pulling her so close against him that it almost hurt. Their teeth bumped together, their kissing almost a war in its intensity. She pulled back, biting at Marcus’s lower lip, gratified when he made a small noise of protest.
Katie grabbed Marcus’s hand, tugging at him to follow her up the rest of the stairs. He complied, half so he could watch her arse sway in her colorful skirt, and half because he knew he would have a very good time if he did. He caught up to her, pulling her hips flush against him, wrapping his arms around her waist and dipping his head so he could bite and suck the soft skin just behind Katie’s ear. She shivered in response, her head falling back against Marcus’s shoulder. She was extremely sensitive on her neck and back, and she both loved and hated it when he exploited that knowledge.
“What room are you in, pet?” He whispered, his attention more focused on Katie’s ear than her actual answer.
“Room 17,” her voice was breathy. “It’s the one on the corner.”
Marcus walked them the rest of the way to Katie’s door, his arms still wrapped around her waist, one hand teasing beneath her blouse. Katie drew her wand from its thin pocket sewn into her Muggle skirt, tapping its end on the doorknob with a whispered “Alohamora.” Marcus reached around her and turned the knob, pushing the door open into her room. She twisted in his arms, so they faced one another, and hooked her finger in the waistband of his pants. Katie drew him in the room with a smile Marcus could only describe as nefarious. She walked backwards until she bumped into the wall and he pressed close against her.
Marcus leaned in, one elbow resting beside Katie’s head, his attention focused not on her face but on the exposed skin of her midriff. He slid her shirt up, exposing her navel, then the bottom of her ribs. She smirked, reaching down and pulling her blouse over her head in a quick motion, not even bothering to unbutton it.
“I don’t have all night, Marcus, and neither do you.” Katie unfastened his belt with ease, sliding the expensive leather through the loops of his trousers and dropping it to the floor with a thud. “In case you haven’t noticed, we have a game tomorrow evening, and I don’t intend to lose again.” She unfastened the top button of his khakis. “Do you?” She untucked his shirt from his pants then, and quickly unbuttoned the cool white linen. Katie bit her lip, trailing her hand down Marcus’s chest, following the fine trail of dark hair down his flat stomach to where it disappeared beneath the waistband of his boxers. He smirked.
“Bell, please believe me when I say that the match tomorrow is the absolute least of my worries.” He dropped carefully to his knees, pressing a kiss to Katie’s flat stomach. “For instance, right now? I’m much more worried about how to get your knickers off than anything else.” He slid his hands up beneath her skirt, slipping his fingers just beneath the tight fabric. “Tell me, should I just tear these off, or do I try to talk you out of them?”
Katie shook her head. “Don’t tear them, they’re expensive.” She reached down, hiking her skirt up to expose her long legs, then pushing the waistband of her knickers down until they fell at her feet. She grinned then. “See, you don’t even have to talk me out of them. Your work is half done.”
Marcus bunched Katie’s skirt up at her waist, then leaned forward, kissing the side of her thigh, the soft skin above the big pulse in her leg, nibbling and sucking at nearly every part of her skin except for where she wanted it most. She had a bruise on the outside of her hip, Marcus noticed, likely from a collision with a bludger in practice or a recent match. He momentarily focused his attention on the injury, biting the darkened skin gently and then kissing away the small hurt. Katie reached down, grabbing Marcus’s hair with a sound of frustration. He looked up at her. “Is something the matter, pet?”
Katie tossed her head, irritated. “I don’t want to be teased.”
Marcus smirked at her, then leaned forward and kissed directly between her legs, slipping his tongue between her folds, making her gasp and cry out. He did this several times, alternatively licking, then sucking at her clitoris until Katie felt like her bones had melted through her skin and she couldn’t hold herself up. She arched her hips against him, grinding against him, straining to get enough stimulation to build her orgasm. However, after seven months of their trysts, Marcus was well acquainted with her body, and he pulled away from her.
“How’s that, Bell?” His eyes locked their gaze with hers, and he teased one finger at her entrance, and then slid it slowly inside of her. Katie bit her lip, her eyes still focused on his, reaching down and grabbing at his arm to steady herself. Marcus pushed a second finger inside of her and she cried out. He curled his fingers forward, making Katie jerk, repeating the motion over and over again until her eyes lost their focus and she was whimpering under her breath. Abruptly, he stopped. “Seems as though you liked it.”
“Marcus, don’t stop! That’s not fair!”
He ignored her protest, standing up, letting her skirt fall back so it covered her legs. Marcus pressed tight against her, bringing a hand up and cupping one of her breasts. He tugged at her black silk bra, exposing a rosy nipple so he could roll it between his thumb and finger. He did this for just a moment, and then reached behind her to unfasten the garment. He dropped the black fabric and wire to the floor behind him. Marcus bent his head, biting the tip of her nipple, tugging it with his teeth until she pushed him away with a glare. He licked his lips, and sucked at it instead, making her clutch his shoulders, digging her nails into his shirt.
“Are you ready, pet?” He asked, using the nickname that she loathed. Katie slid a hand between their bodies to unzip his trousers and reach her hand through the fly of his boxers, drawing his cock free of the fabric.
“What do you think, Flint?” It seemed like the nights she wanted nothing more than to be fucked until she saw stars, he insisted on teasing and tormenting her until she wanted to sob.
He pushed her skirt up again, positioning his cock so the tip was just sliding inside of her. “I think you’re ready,” he whispered in her ear. Marcus lifted her left leg, pushing her knee up so it was hooked above his forearm as he braced against the wall. “In fact, Miss Bell, I think you’re fucking desperate for it.” He pushed inside of her in one easy motion, sliding to the hilt. He groaned, resting his head on her shoulder, fighting to remain still and give Katie a moment to adjust.
They stood like that, pressed together, for only a few seconds, but with their sex-heightened senses, it seemed like much longer. Katie wrapped both arms tightly around Marcus’s neck so that she pulled him as close to her as possible. He drew back, then thrust back into her; then once more, before their hips caught the age old rhythm of sex. Katie cried out, moving with him and gasping each time Marcus’s cock dragged against a sensitive spot inside of her. After a particularly hard thrust, Katie slapped a flat hand against the roughly textured wall, her hand clenching, and her nails scratching against the wallpaper, as though it was bed sheet that she could grab onto for leverage.
They moved like this for several minutes until Katie was crying out – a high pitched mantra of “oh God… Marcus…” But try as she might, the angle was wrong, and she couldn’t get enough stimulation to her clitoris reach a climax. For that reason, this was one of Marcus’s favorite ways to have sex. He loved to control his normally dominant bed partner, and if he had his way, he would tease and torment her until she begged and pleaded. However, tonight he took mercy on Katie.
Marcus slowed his thrusts, then pulled away from her, gently lowering her leg until her foot touched the floor. Katie opened her eyes, giving him a look of near desperation. He dropped a soft kiss on the crown of her head. “How about we move to the bed, pet?” She nodded, her attention not really focused on his words but on her arousal. Marcus walked the few short steps to the bed, dropping his shirt to the floor, and pushing his trousers and underwear over his hips. He sat on the bed and kicked the garments off. Katie followed him to the bed, shucking her skirt as well so they were both nude.
Marcus moved so he was leaning against the wooden headboard of the bed. Katie climbed onto the bed and crawled over to him. She straddled his thighs, sitting up on her knees so that her body was pressed against Marcus’s and her breasts were just at his eye level. He kissed her sternum between her shallow breasts, skimming his hands along her arse and lower back so that she got goose bumps from his touch. He ran his hands all up and down her thighs, then brought them up and combed them through her smooth, honey brown hair. Katie drew a shaky breath in. She reached down, grabbed hold of his cock, and then positioned it at her entrance so she could sink down slowly. They both sighed when he was all of the way inside of her.
Katie was still soaking wet and she moved against him easily. Marcus nudged his hips up to urge her on. She took hold of the headboard behind his shoulders for leverage and he cupped her arse to guide her movements. They moved together, their tempo building until they were moving almost as fast as they had been against the wall. Katie rested her forehead against Marcus’s, which caused their noses to touch and their mouths to be just centimeters away from one another’s. Her hair fell forward and made an almost curtain around their faces.
Marcus reached up and grabbed one of her hands so Katie could lace her fingers with his and use him to brace against instead. She took his lead and grabbed his other hand, pushing her weight on his muscular forearms and tossing her head back, arching her back. She moved like that for nearly a minute more, as her cries got louder and more reckless. As her orgasm built, Katie rolled her hips forward and back, her movement increasing until she was sobbing from the intensity. Suddenly, she screamed aloud, short and sharp, as her climax crashed over her in waves. Her movements were erratic as she tried to keep thrusting to prolong her orgasm. Marcus took hold of her hips and thrust hard into her, trying to chase her finish with his own. After a few more seconds, he groaned, his head falling back against the wooden headboard. His hips jerked several times as he came, before he finally stilled.
Marcus held Katie close as they tried to control their breathing. Their skin was slick with sweat – fine hairs were sticking to her forehead. She leaned close to him and buried her face in the crook of his neck. She kissed his neck and ear every once and awhile, and he trailed fingers up and down her arms until the hairs stood on end. After several minutes like this, she pulled away and looked him in the eyes.
“Well… that was…” she started, then trailed off.
“…Very fun.” He finished, a wicked grin on his features.
“Indeed.” Katie reluctantly shifted, lifting herself gingerly off his lap, then climbing out of the bed. She went into the bathroom to clean herself up while Marcus grabbed one of her shower-damp towels from the floor and wiped the sweat from his face.
“You know,” he called to her in the lavatory. “You could let me stay the night and we could do this again in the morning.”
Katie smirked, even though he couldn’t see her. “Flint, why would I want to do that?” She regarded herself in the mirror as she started to prepare for bed. She pulled her hair back into a pigtail and wet a flannel to wash her face. She was somewhat unprepared for his response.
“You want to do that, Bell, because I make you come harder than any man you’ve ever been with.” He pulled his boxers on as he called back to her and then sauntered over to the bathroom door to watch her prepare for bed. He smirked at her flushed skin.
Katie scrubbed at her face, her makeup coming off with the soapy scrub she used. She rinsed her face before she answered. Even then, her response was less than scathing. “You’re a cocky bastard, do you know that?” Marcus just smirked more. “Fine, you can stay the night, but I want you gone before the afternoon. I want to go sightseeing before the match.”
“Anything you say, pet.” He squeezed past her to grab her toothbrush. At her glare, he raised an eyebrow. “You’ve had every part of my body in your mouth at least once, and you object to my using your toothbrush?” She waved her hand in acquiescence. The two of them danced around one another as they prepared for bed. Katie picked up Marcus’s discarded linen shirt, putting it on and buttoning a few buttons, fashioning it into a makeshift sleep shirt. They climbed into the bed together, pushing the duvet into the floor in deference to the heat. As they lay beneath the starched white sheets, Katie gradually turned so she was lying with her head on Marcus’s shoulder and his arm wrapping around her. He dropped a kiss on her forehead.
“Admit it pet, I’m unlike any man you’ve ever known.” Katie could hear the smirk in his voice, but chose to ignore it to respond.
“Of course you are. If you weren’t, do you think we’d be here right now?”
He shrugged. “Perhaps. After all, what’s the point of being an internationally known Quidditch player if you can’t pull whatever girl you’d like?”
Katie resisted the urge to slap him, and in minutes, they were both asleep.