FIC--The Weasley Boys' Smut-Fest--Bill
Title: The Weasley Boys' Smut-Fest
Chapter: Bill
Rating: NC17
Pairing: Bill and Fleur--CHARACTERS ARE OVER 18
Setting: August 1997, a hotel room in London
Charlie--- Ron-- Fred-- George-- Percy
Finally, it was over. The crowds. The dancing. The photographs. The fussing by his mother. It was all said and done.
It was just them. Alone, the way it should be.
Bill Weasley sat on the bed, wearing the silk pyjama bottoms Fleur'd given him as a gift, twiddling his thumbs and tapping his toes. He had no clue as to why he was nervous; he was no inexperienced school boy, that was for sure. He was nearly twenty-seven years old, for Merlin's sake, and had his fair share of dalliances over the years. And it wasn't as if he and Fleur had never been together. He smiled as he remembered their first time, Valentine's Day of '96. It wasn't her first time, he was surprised to learn, but was grateful for what little experience she did have. He hated the shyness and awkwardness of being with at virgin. Sex with Fleur was incredible, he had to admit, and when she talked dirty in French, there was little he could do to control himself.
He reached up absently to scratch his face and his finger fell into the ravine of one of the scars he'd had for a few months. Pomfrey was correct in her theory that they would never quite heal. They had, at least, stopped oozing and had begun to knit together to some degree. He still hadn't got used to them and doubted he ever would. Fleur seemed nonplussed about them. She went on as is they were nonexistent, loving him completely and unconditionally. She wasn't in denial or anything. They'd talked enough about them and she maintained that it didn't matter one bloody bit. He'd never forget the scene in the Hospital Wing at Hogwarts when Fleur had snatched the ointment from his mother and insisted that they would be married and that there was nothing Mum could have done to stop them.
Bill looked up at the bathroom door, wondering what was taking Fleur so long. She'd been in there for nearly twenty minutes. Not hearing water or anything else, he decided to get up off the bed and see what was up.
"Fleur, honey?" he said to the door. "Fleur, you okay?"
"I…I'm fine, Bill. Ju…just give me a minute."
Was she crying?
"Love, you've been in there for almost twenty minutes," he said, his voice low and full of concern.
"What? Oh…in that case…" Her voice drifted off and he heard the click of the lock and saw the doorknob turn. The door opened and there she stood, her hair, which was curled in intricate swirls for the wedding was now straight and hung to the middle of her back. She wore a white lacy piece of lingerie that fell to just above her knees and the bodice was cut to show a generous amount of décolletage. Underneath the see-through baby doll, was a scrap of material that he secretly hoped was a thong. She had a great arse. He looked closer and noticed a charm that hung from the middle of the panties---a golden heart with a shiny stone in the middle.
"Uh…wow." His mouth was suddenly dry and he really didn't care why she was in the bathroom for twenty minutes anymore.
"You like?" The side of her mouth tilted up in a half-smile as she cocked her head to one side. Then she twirled around and the material swung up a bit. Sure enough, she was wearing a thong. "What have you got on your mind?"
"It's not what's on my mind that I'm concerned with." He closed the distance between them and pulled her to his chest, his mouth finding hers and his tongue delving into hers with abandon. Her tongue tasted sweet like éclairs and champagne. She was good enough to eat.
"Oh, your mouth is delicious," she moaned, sending tingles up and down his spine. That always happened when she spoke French and he kissed her again, harder than before. Their teeth clashed against one another's and Bill growled. He bit her bottom lip and tasted the coppery blood that dripped out.
"Fuck, Fleur." He growled again and picked her up, putting her legs around his waist. He grabbed her arse cheeks and squeezed them hard, silently hoping that he'd leave a mark. She liked that sometimes.
"Make me scream, lover," she said as she kissed him. "Tu connais ce que je voulais."
"You know what French does to me…More…" he begged, ripping the tiny thong that gave absolutely no resistance at all.
"Mets ton bouche sur moi."
Bill threw her onto the bed and grinned wickedly as her legs spread apart to show her freshly shaven pussy. That's what she was doing in there, bless her wicked, little French heart. He crawled across the bed and shoved the lacy baby doll up to her armpits and dove right in, attaching his mouth to her breast and reaching down between her legs with one hand and putting his other on her backside to hold her still.
As he continued to suck on her breast, his fingers of his left hand went inside her, evoking a rich, deep laugh from Fleur's throat. Bill loved hearing her laugh, especially during sex. She never laughed at him per se; she laughed when he didn't give her what she wanted right away.
"Vilain! Pas les doigts! I need your fucking mouth!"
She put her hands on his head and pulled his lips from her body, pushing his head down her body to the juncture of her thighs.
"Mets ton bouche sur moi!" she yelled.
"Say 'please.' Say it! Beg!"
"S'il vous plait…"
At the sound of her native tongue, he growled again and withdrew his fingers from her body and placed his open mouth on her sex and began to suck her swollen clit. She arched her back in pleasure as his tongue circled the bundle of nerves and moaned again. His fingers returned to the slickness of her body, tickling her until he found the right spot and she squirmed in response. Her hips rose from the bed and brought his mouth further into her, filling his nostrils with her sexy scent.
Bill had never felt so hard in his life. The loose pyjama bottoms, while loose when standing, were tight as he lay on the bed and the smoothness of the silk felt too much like the inside of her body. His breathing increased as he continued to lap up her juices until he could bear it no more. Off came the pyjamas and he slid up her body until he was looking down at her. Her eyes were closed and her mouth was open. There was a light sheen of sweat on her forehead and her skin was flushed pink.
"I want you, Bill! Now!"
Bill took hold of himself and guided his cock inside her hot, slick body, his moans mingling with hers. "Fuck," he moaned as he held pushed himself on his hands, feeling himself plunge deeper inside her.
"Plus dur!"
He groaned and thrust harder inside her.
"Plus vite!"
Bill growled as he increased the rhythm of his thrusts, her hips meeting every one of his own thrusts. She squeezed her muscles around him and his eyes rolled back in his head, it felt so good. She repeated the squeezing and was milking him for all he was worth. It was brilliant.
Fleur wrapped her legs around him and gave him one final squeeze before he began short, hard thrusts that brought about the most tremendous scream from her as she came hard. Bill's own climax carried him along with her and her howled into the dark of the room.
He fell onto her, his body continuing to pulse, and peppered her neck and jaw with kisses and stroked her hair. With the slightest push against his chest, she signaled to him to roll off and he reluctantly did so, withdrawing from her luscious body. Once on his back, he gathered her to his chest and wrapped his arms protectively around her.
"Je taime, Monsieur Beel," she teased, using the name she called him when they were dating.
He chuckled into her ear and ran his tongue around the flesh of her earlobe. "Don't kill me tonight, love. You know what French does to me."
At that, Fleur wrapped her upper leg around his hip and pulled him toward her body. "No. I want you very much…vivant!"
Chapter: Bill
Rating: NC17
Pairing: Bill and Fleur--CHARACTERS ARE OVER 18
Setting: August 1997, a hotel room in London
Charlie--- Ron-- Fred-- George-- Percy
Finally, it was over. The crowds. The dancing. The photographs. The fussing by his mother. It was all said and done.
It was just them. Alone, the way it should be.
Bill Weasley sat on the bed, wearing the silk pyjama bottoms Fleur'd given him as a gift, twiddling his thumbs and tapping his toes. He had no clue as to why he was nervous; he was no inexperienced school boy, that was for sure. He was nearly twenty-seven years old, for Merlin's sake, and had his fair share of dalliances over the years. And it wasn't as if he and Fleur had never been together. He smiled as he remembered their first time, Valentine's Day of '96. It wasn't her first time, he was surprised to learn, but was grateful for what little experience she did have. He hated the shyness and awkwardness of being with at virgin. Sex with Fleur was incredible, he had to admit, and when she talked dirty in French, there was little he could do to control himself.
He reached up absently to scratch his face and his finger fell into the ravine of one of the scars he'd had for a few months. Pomfrey was correct in her theory that they would never quite heal. They had, at least, stopped oozing and had begun to knit together to some degree. He still hadn't got used to them and doubted he ever would. Fleur seemed nonplussed about them. She went on as is they were nonexistent, loving him completely and unconditionally. She wasn't in denial or anything. They'd talked enough about them and she maintained that it didn't matter one bloody bit. He'd never forget the scene in the Hospital Wing at Hogwarts when Fleur had snatched the ointment from his mother and insisted that they would be married and that there was nothing Mum could have done to stop them.
Bill looked up at the bathroom door, wondering what was taking Fleur so long. She'd been in there for nearly twenty minutes. Not hearing water or anything else, he decided to get up off the bed and see what was up.
"Fleur, honey?" he said to the door. "Fleur, you okay?"
"I…I'm fine, Bill. Ju…just give me a minute."
Was she crying?
"Love, you've been in there for almost twenty minutes," he said, his voice low and full of concern.
"What? Oh…in that case…" Her voice drifted off and he heard the click of the lock and saw the doorknob turn. The door opened and there she stood, her hair, which was curled in intricate swirls for the wedding was now straight and hung to the middle of her back. She wore a white lacy piece of lingerie that fell to just above her knees and the bodice was cut to show a generous amount of décolletage. Underneath the see-through baby doll, was a scrap of material that he secretly hoped was a thong. She had a great arse. He looked closer and noticed a charm that hung from the middle of the panties---a golden heart with a shiny stone in the middle.
"Uh…wow." His mouth was suddenly dry and he really didn't care why she was in the bathroom for twenty minutes anymore.
"You like?" The side of her mouth tilted up in a half-smile as she cocked her head to one side. Then she twirled around and the material swung up a bit. Sure enough, she was wearing a thong. "What have you got on your mind?"
"It's not what's on my mind that I'm concerned with." He closed the distance between them and pulled her to his chest, his mouth finding hers and his tongue delving into hers with abandon. Her tongue tasted sweet like éclairs and champagne. She was good enough to eat.
"Oh, your mouth is delicious," she moaned, sending tingles up and down his spine. That always happened when she spoke French and he kissed her again, harder than before. Their teeth clashed against one another's and Bill growled. He bit her bottom lip and tasted the coppery blood that dripped out.
"Fuck, Fleur." He growled again and picked her up, putting her legs around his waist. He grabbed her arse cheeks and squeezed them hard, silently hoping that he'd leave a mark. She liked that sometimes.
"Make me scream, lover," she said as she kissed him. "Tu connais ce que je voulais."
"You know what French does to me…More…" he begged, ripping the tiny thong that gave absolutely no resistance at all.
"Mets ton bouche sur moi."
Bill threw her onto the bed and grinned wickedly as her legs spread apart to show her freshly shaven pussy. That's what she was doing in there, bless her wicked, little French heart. He crawled across the bed and shoved the lacy baby doll up to her armpits and dove right in, attaching his mouth to her breast and reaching down between her legs with one hand and putting his other on her backside to hold her still.
As he continued to suck on her breast, his fingers of his left hand went inside her, evoking a rich, deep laugh from Fleur's throat. Bill loved hearing her laugh, especially during sex. She never laughed at him per se; she laughed when he didn't give her what she wanted right away.
"Vilain! Pas les doigts! I need your fucking mouth!"
She put her hands on his head and pulled his lips from her body, pushing his head down her body to the juncture of her thighs.
"Mets ton bouche sur moi!" she yelled.
"Say 'please.' Say it! Beg!"
"S'il vous plait…"
At the sound of her native tongue, he growled again and withdrew his fingers from her body and placed his open mouth on her sex and began to suck her swollen clit. She arched her back in pleasure as his tongue circled the bundle of nerves and moaned again. His fingers returned to the slickness of her body, tickling her until he found the right spot and she squirmed in response. Her hips rose from the bed and brought his mouth further into her, filling his nostrils with her sexy scent.
Bill had never felt so hard in his life. The loose pyjama bottoms, while loose when standing, were tight as he lay on the bed and the smoothness of the silk felt too much like the inside of her body. His breathing increased as he continued to lap up her juices until he could bear it no more. Off came the pyjamas and he slid up her body until he was looking down at her. Her eyes were closed and her mouth was open. There was a light sheen of sweat on her forehead and her skin was flushed pink.
"I want you, Bill! Now!"
Bill took hold of himself and guided his cock inside her hot, slick body, his moans mingling with hers. "Fuck," he moaned as he held pushed himself on his hands, feeling himself plunge deeper inside her.
"Plus dur!"
He groaned and thrust harder inside her.
"Plus vite!"
Bill growled as he increased the rhythm of his thrusts, her hips meeting every one of his own thrusts. She squeezed her muscles around him and his eyes rolled back in his head, it felt so good. She repeated the squeezing and was milking him for all he was worth. It was brilliant.
Fleur wrapped her legs around him and gave him one final squeeze before he began short, hard thrusts that brought about the most tremendous scream from her as she came hard. Bill's own climax carried him along with her and her howled into the dark of the room.
He fell onto her, his body continuing to pulse, and peppered her neck and jaw with kisses and stroked her hair. With the slightest push against his chest, she signaled to him to roll off and he reluctantly did so, withdrawing from her luscious body. Once on his back, he gathered her to his chest and wrapped his arms protectively around her.
"Je taime, Monsieur Beel," she teased, using the name she called him when they were dating.
He chuckled into her ear and ran his tongue around the flesh of her earlobe. "Don't kill me tonight, love. You know what French does to me."
At that, Fleur wrapped her upper leg around his hip and pulled him toward her body. "No. I want you very much…vivant!"