(no subject)
Title: Whiny
Author: Elena Miscellanyy/ dirtyxemoxkid
Rating: R
Summary: [MarcusHermione]
Criteria Fits: NC-17 fic, Slyth/Gryff pairing.
Warnings: Sexual Content. Sexual innuendo in the form of Quidditch. :P
Notes: Written for mandy_jg. She gave me free leeway with this, so I'm gonna go wild.
[Mandy: this is my first Marcus/Hermione, so if it's utterly screwed up, let me know!]
Any relationship wasn't exactly perfect if it formed out of nothing. But, there were a few that were.
Example number one, Marcus Flint and Hermione Granger.
Why were they number one? You see, Marcus was well around twenty-seven and teaching Flying Classes at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry--the same school where Hermione Granger, aged twenty-three, was teaching Charms. And they didn't know each other's name, although they worked together.
It had started with her walking through the hallways with papers, and Marcus' flying class running through the hall. One student crashed into her and she was helped up by none other than Marcus himself. She had never introduced herself to him--nor the other way around, but she could never forget the Slytherin that she had stood toe to toe with in second year.
"Sorry about that. Stupid, whiny second year brats." He had handed her papers, and as she as she tried to take them, he looked at her and tilted his head. "You look familiar, now that I think about it." Hermione had nearly snorted.
"Flint, I know you." At this, Marcus raised a dark eyebrow at her, letting go of the papers.
"You do? How?" He asked inquisitively, picking up another set of papers.
"Granger." She said. Marcus still looked confused. "Harry Potter's friend, the Mudblood?" She questioned. Marcus nodded.
"Ah. From Quidditch." He handed her the last stack of papers. "You were a whiny second year brat then, too." And he walked off, leaving Hermione stunned in the hallway.
"I am not whiny." She huffed, turning towards her office.
--
Hermione was grading papers in her office another day, when suddenly, a window shattered and a Quaffle flew through, hitting her in the shoulder. Shrieking at the broken glass flying around, she cowered under her desk.
"Eh, sorry, Granger." Flint again. He had obviously been on the Quidditch Field, and had flown through the broken window after the Quaffle. Hermione got from under her desk and crossed her arms--before moaning in pain. Her shoulder.
"Flint, you better fucking clean this up. I have to go to the Infirmary and I'd like to not sear my foot open on a piece of glass." She said, before turning and leaving.
"Oy, Granger! You're being whiny! And besides, don't walk barefooted and you won't sear your foot open!" In the hallway, Hermione growled.
"I am not whiny." She said to herself, before finding her way to the Infirmary.
--
The very same day, Hermione returned to find Marcus Flint reading over the papers on her desk, glass still on the floor. Hermione frowned as she realised the window was still broken as well.
"Flint, I thought I told you to clean it up!" She shouted, snatching her papers from him and slamming them down angrily.
"I cleaned off the desk." He said grinning, leaning back in the desk chair.
"And why the bloody hell not the rest of my floor?" He grinned, grabbing the wrist that she was leaning on the desk with. Hermione almost cracked her head on the desk, but Marcus Flint had other ideas. Pulling her across the desk, she found herself in the lap of one very excited Flying teacher.
"Would you like to ride my broomstick, Granger?" He asked in a dark voice, a grin spreading across his facial features. She turned in her lap and Marcus tried not to show what affect it had--until she pressed her lips against his in a fiery kiss. Completely satisfied with what was going on, Marcus lifted Hermione underneath her legs and put her on the desk.
"Cleaned it off for a reason, Granger." He murmured, before pressing his lips to hers again. Hermione's finger busied themselves with the annoying robe he had on, before her fingers brushed the tightness in his pants and he groaned. Clasping her wrists, he used a hand to pin them above her head.
"Naughty girl, aren't we?" He said softly. "Hands off the goods, Granger." She slid one of her hands out of his grasp and brought it to his face.
"We aren't playing Quidditch. Call me Hermione. And if we were indeed playing Quidditch, I'd need to inspect that beater's bat." She said in a low voice, her hands finding their way south again, and unbuckling his pants. Marcus had just unbuttoned Hermione's top and now pulled the green laced bra off of her.
"If we were playing Quidditch, Hermione, I'd know which team you were rooting for." He grinned, before sliding her skirt down and pulling the unbuckled pants off of himself. Hermione slid her own knickers off and Marcus repeated her movements, until they were both together--naked, on Hermione's desk.
The foreplay--or whatever was done and over with--now, it was just Marcus and Hermione, joined together. Moving in synchronization, Hermione threw her head back and Marcus pressed his forehead into her collarbone, feeling Hermione's peak rise alongside his.
But he had the stronger urge--and soon the movements that were light and normally paced became rough and fast---swift thrusts and sweaty bodies causing friction against one another. Marcus felt himself topple off the edge and could feel Hermione following him.
Exhausted, the man lay his head on Hermione's chest, closing his eyes. Hermione relaxed, her hands resting in Marcus' dark hair. It was silent, before Hermione spoke.
"Damn, Marcus, you're heavy." He looked up at her tiringly.
"It's muscle, love." He said grinning. "And you're still whiny, Hermione. Whiny, whiny, whiny, Hermione." He joked. She kicked him off the desk with a malicious grin, tossing his robe to land on his head. He looked up at her and she smirked incredulously.
"I have glass in my hand now, Hermione!" He exclaimed, showing her. She stuck her tongue out, before pulling her robe over her and falling into her desk chair.
"I am not whiny."
Author: Elena Miscellanyy/ dirtyxemoxkid
Rating: R
Summary: [MarcusHermione]
Criteria Fits: NC-17 fic, Slyth/Gryff pairing.
Warnings: Sexual Content. Sexual innuendo in the form of Quidditch. :P
Notes: Written for mandy_jg. She gave me free leeway with this, so I'm gonna go wild.
[Mandy: this is my first Marcus/Hermione, so if it's utterly screwed up, let me know!]
Any relationship wasn't exactly perfect if it formed out of nothing. But, there were a few that were.
Example number one, Marcus Flint and Hermione Granger.
Why were they number one? You see, Marcus was well around twenty-seven and teaching Flying Classes at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry--the same school where Hermione Granger, aged twenty-three, was teaching Charms. And they didn't know each other's name, although they worked together.
It had started with her walking through the hallways with papers, and Marcus' flying class running through the hall. One student crashed into her and she was helped up by none other than Marcus himself. She had never introduced herself to him--nor the other way around, but she could never forget the Slytherin that she had stood toe to toe with in second year.
"Sorry about that. Stupid, whiny second year brats." He had handed her papers, and as she as she tried to take them, he looked at her and tilted his head. "You look familiar, now that I think about it." Hermione had nearly snorted.
"Flint, I know you." At this, Marcus raised a dark eyebrow at her, letting go of the papers.
"You do? How?" He asked inquisitively, picking up another set of papers.
"Granger." She said. Marcus still looked confused. "Harry Potter's friend, the Mudblood?" She questioned. Marcus nodded.
"Ah. From Quidditch." He handed her the last stack of papers. "You were a whiny second year brat then, too." And he walked off, leaving Hermione stunned in the hallway.
"I am not whiny." She huffed, turning towards her office.
--
Hermione was grading papers in her office another day, when suddenly, a window shattered and a Quaffle flew through, hitting her in the shoulder. Shrieking at the broken glass flying around, she cowered under her desk.
"Eh, sorry, Granger." Flint again. He had obviously been on the Quidditch Field, and had flown through the broken window after the Quaffle. Hermione got from under her desk and crossed her arms--before moaning in pain. Her shoulder.
"Flint, you better fucking clean this up. I have to go to the Infirmary and I'd like to not sear my foot open on a piece of glass." She said, before turning and leaving.
"Oy, Granger! You're being whiny! And besides, don't walk barefooted and you won't sear your foot open!" In the hallway, Hermione growled.
"I am not whiny." She said to herself, before finding her way to the Infirmary.
--
The very same day, Hermione returned to find Marcus Flint reading over the papers on her desk, glass still on the floor. Hermione frowned as she realised the window was still broken as well.
"Flint, I thought I told you to clean it up!" She shouted, snatching her papers from him and slamming them down angrily.
"I cleaned off the desk." He said grinning, leaning back in the desk chair.
"And why the bloody hell not the rest of my floor?" He grinned, grabbing the wrist that she was leaning on the desk with. Hermione almost cracked her head on the desk, but Marcus Flint had other ideas. Pulling her across the desk, she found herself in the lap of one very excited Flying teacher.
"Would you like to ride my broomstick, Granger?" He asked in a dark voice, a grin spreading across his facial features. She turned in her lap and Marcus tried not to show what affect it had--until she pressed her lips against his in a fiery kiss. Completely satisfied with what was going on, Marcus lifted Hermione underneath her legs and put her on the desk.
"Cleaned it off for a reason, Granger." He murmured, before pressing his lips to hers again. Hermione's finger busied themselves with the annoying robe he had on, before her fingers brushed the tightness in his pants and he groaned. Clasping her wrists, he used a hand to pin them above her head.
"Naughty girl, aren't we?" He said softly. "Hands off the goods, Granger." She slid one of her hands out of his grasp and brought it to his face.
"We aren't playing Quidditch. Call me Hermione. And if we were indeed playing Quidditch, I'd need to inspect that beater's bat." She said in a low voice, her hands finding their way south again, and unbuckling his pants. Marcus had just unbuttoned Hermione's top and now pulled the green laced bra off of her.
"If we were playing Quidditch, Hermione, I'd know which team you were rooting for." He grinned, before sliding her skirt down and pulling the unbuckled pants off of himself. Hermione slid her own knickers off and Marcus repeated her movements, until they were both together--naked, on Hermione's desk.
The foreplay--or whatever was done and over with--now, it was just Marcus and Hermione, joined together. Moving in synchronization, Hermione threw her head back and Marcus pressed his forehead into her collarbone, feeling Hermione's peak rise alongside his.
But he had the stronger urge--and soon the movements that were light and normally paced became rough and fast---swift thrusts and sweaty bodies causing friction against one another. Marcus felt himself topple off the edge and could feel Hermione following him.
Exhausted, the man lay his head on Hermione's chest, closing his eyes. Hermione relaxed, her hands resting in Marcus' dark hair. It was silent, before Hermione spoke.
"Damn, Marcus, you're heavy." He looked up at her tiringly.
"It's muscle, love." He said grinning. "And you're still whiny, Hermione. Whiny, whiny, whiny, Hermione." He joked. She kicked him off the desk with a malicious grin, tossing his robe to land on his head. He looked up at her and she smirked incredulously.
"I have glass in my hand now, Hermione!" He exclaimed, showing her. She stuck her tongue out, before pulling her robe over her and falling into her desk chair.
"I am not whiny."