Poetry Reading
Posting this and then going to bed. Goodnight world.
Fandom: Harry Potter
Characters/Pairings: Charlie Weasley, Alicia Spinnet
Rating: NC-17
Word Count:1,817
Summary: When you write poetry about your best mates’ older brother, you really ought to burn it before they find it and give it to him. Or not.
Spoilers: Um. none, really. Not DH compliant, I guess.
A/N: This hasn't been beta'd. I just wrote it tonight in an effort to gear up for NaNo. What have I learned? When all else fails and you're desperate to reach a certain word-count... write porn.
Ali stopped short at the doorway to the bedroom she’d been given in the Weasley household. There on her bed, sat Charlie, smirking at her.
It was the full-size version of the half-grins that the twins wore, and she suddenly felt as though she ought to be a little frightened. She’d been on the receiving end of their pranks more than once, after all, and knew the warning signs. Her thoughts drifted from the Twins to the fact that Charlie was on her bed, and last night she’d had a decidedly naughty dream about him - also in that bed.
Of course, that thought gave way to the question of why Charlie would even notice her at all. Sure, she’d grown up from the somewhat gangly eleven year old that was too small to even try out for Quidditch. She may have been signed onto the Falcon’s Reserve almost immediately after school, but she was nothing spectacular. She stared back at him, unable to speak for a moment.
“Wotcher, Spinnet,” he said.
“What the buggering fuck, Weasley?” she retorted, slapping a hand over her mouth and glaring at him over the top of it.
“Touchy. And here I came to pay you a special visit.” He looked positively cheeky and sure of himself. She hated people like that. Especially when they look that good doing it.
“What do you want, Charlie?” she muttered, moving toward him.
“A little birdie gave me something fascinating to read last night,” Charlie said, pulling out a tattered notebook that Alicia recognized immediately.
“I’m going to tear Fred and George apart with my bare hands,” she muttered and Charlie laughed.
“Let me see, here. Page one: Haiku.”
“Merlin’s balls, Weasley!” Alicia yelped, debating between lunging to shut the door so no one would hear him, and lunging to steal the notebook away. In the end, she tried to do both, and ended up falling right onto the bed beside him.
“Make yourself comfy, Spinnet, there’s a lot of poetry in this book,” Charlie said, flicking his wand to shut and ward the door.
She made a grab for the book and Charlie laughed as he leapt out of her reach.
“Now, now, Spinnet, that wasn’t nice at all,” he said, swishing his wand again.
Alicia tried to move towards him but found herself bound to one of the posts of the four-poster bed.
“There’s a good girl. I’m pretty sure that page 34’s sonnet included something about being tied up, so I know you won’t really mind this. Now listen nicely! The author put a lot of time into these poems.”
Alicia mentally cursed Fred and George, plotting the numerous methods of their demise as Charlie began reading from a notebook she desperately wished she had burned. If she could go back, she would have burned it long before the Twins had found it and taken it as blackmail.
“The Haiku:
Charlie Weasley’s fine
I could count each freckle twice
And adore them more”
“Seriously, Weasley, you’re going to tie me to the bed and read poetry that I wrote when I was fourteen?”
“You were only fourteen when you wrote the limerick?” Charlie asked, and Alicia flushed. “What a naughty girl you were.”
“Seventeen,” she admitted, her cheeks burning. “But the point remains - why are you doing this?”
“The Limerick:
Weasley’s a fine sort of chum,
Raised proper and right by his mum
You’d not hear any snickers
If he said ‘drop your knickers’
I’d happily show him my bum”
He was laughing at her, and it made her frown. This wasn’t the way it was meant to be. It was something she’d written privately, and he was turning her admiration into a joke. Who had she been kidding all this time? Charlie Weasley was not hers, and he never would be.
“I don’t think I’ve ever been so flattered in my life, Spinnet,” Charlie said, a distinct huskiness to his voice that she’d never heard before. It stopped her thoughts immediately and drew her eyes over to where he stood.
“Flattered?” she repeated and he nodded, stepping closer to her and dropping the book to the side.
“Would you drop your knickers for me now, if I asked?” he murmured, leaning down to whisper in her ear.
His breath was warm and hers caught at his words. Without thinking it through, she merely nodded.
“Good.” With that one word, the bonds that had held her to the bedpost were gone, and she blinked at him in surprise. When he arched an eyebrow at her, she realized that he wasn’t exactly asking.
Desire pooled in her belly and she did as he wanted, fingers undoing the button of her denims and sliding them down over her hips to reveal her black thong.
“All these years you’ve wanted me?” he asked, pulling her to him and hooking his fingers in the waistband of her knickers.
“Yes,” she answered simply. It wasn’t any use denying it. He’d already read the abysmal poetry in his honor.
“And here I thought I was barking for noticing you,” he muttered. “Because you were friends with George and Fred, and well on your way to becoming a Quidditch star, and what would a woman like that see in a Dragon tamer? Especially one she’d barely seen through her years growing up.”
Ali opened her mouth to protest, to explain, but he pressed a finger to her lips. “Shh.” With that, he pushed her back onto the bed, and the bindings from earlier were back, tying her arms above her head.
“I’ve already seen how you feel about me, Spinnet,” he murmured and she nearly keened with pleasure as his hands slid up her legs. “Now allow me to return the favour.”
He did away with her shirt and camisole, revealing the breasts she’d always considered too small. Charlie didn’t seem to have a problem with them, however, and he dipped his head to press a kiss to the swell of first one, then the other. His fingers tweaked one nipple as he sucked the other into his mouth.
Ali arched against him, wanting to run fingers through the ginger locks, but her bonds held fast. She huffed in annoyance that after all her dreams and fantasies, Charlie was reciprocating. It was almost too good to be true and the realization hit her like a ton of bricks.
“If you’re Fred or George in disguise, I’m going to absolutely tear you limb from limb. Beginning with your testes.”
Charlie laughed, a deep rumble in his throat and he kissed her. “You’re never afraid to say exactly what you think, are you Spinnet?” he muttered before picking up where he’d left off and ministering to the other breast.
As he slid her knickers down her legs and trailed his tongue along each of her thighs, she decided that she didn’t care any more if it was Fred or George. If they wanted to make her feel like this, she wasn’t entirely opposed.
Her thoughts escaped her as Charlie’s fingers slid up through her folds, circling her clit. He pinched it lightly and she keened loudly.
“Shh, Spinnet,” he muttered. “The walls in this house are paper thin.”
His words made her bite her tongue, though the pressure wore off rapidly as he dipped his head to taste her. She arched against him as best she could, trying to get the right pressure, but Charlie knew exactly what he was doing, and he told her so.
“Enjoy yourself, that’s all,” he said, then dipped his head and began again.
The pace was agonizingly slow but the rhythm was building to a crescendo and as he slid one calloused finger into her, then two, her legs began to tremble. It was when he scissored them and sucked on her clit at the same time that her world collapsed. She was left shaking, her shoulders aching from being tied above her head, and Charlie gave a half hearted wave to release them.
Sitting forward just slightly, Alicia fixed him in her gaze. “It’s my turn now,” she said, grabbing a handful of his shirt and pulling him towards her. She slid it up over his shoulders and pressed him back onto the bed, running her hands along his chest. She found his dragon tattoo and grinned, tracing it carefully before kissing it.
She wound a lazy trail of kisses down his torso to the ginger hair that rose just above his trousers. There, she stopped, pausing for a second to truly take it all in.
With a swift motion she’d grabbed her wand, bound him to the bed, and was left wearing a smirk that rivaled his own.
“And now, Charlie Weasley, I think I’d like to hear some poetry from you.”
“What?” he squawked, tugging helplessly at the bindings, which held as surely as the ones that he had used.
“Do you really think the Twins simply gave you that book?” She shook her head. “No, they’re far more tricky than that. They told me all about your poetry too, only that you had it stored up here -” she tapped his forehead. “Is it true you recite it to the calendar pose that I did?” she queried.
“Bloody buggering fuck, Spinnet, this isn’t funny. You aren’t really going to -”
“Oh, you’ll recite poetry, alright,” Alicia said, vanishing his trousers and pants with another lazy flick of her wand. “Because I’ll give you the worst case of blue balls you’ve ever had, if you don’t.” With the threat now firmly planted in his mind, Alicia dropped her head and took him into her mouth. She circled the tip with her tongue, causing him to buck his hips up toward her mouth.
“Recite,” she commanded, and he began to speak.
The poem was awful, at least as bad as some of her own from when she’d been a mere student, dreaming of things she knew nothing about. When he finally finished, she chuckled with laughter and climbed up his body to kiss him full on the mouth.
“I want one more thing from you, Charlie Weasley,” she said, readying herself above him and releasing his bonds.
“What’s that, Spinnet?” he asked, his large hands coming to cradle her hips.
“Say my name.”
She sank down onto him and moments passed as if they were suspended in time, searing themselves upon her memory.
“F-fuck, Alicia.”
“My whole name, Charlie.”
And as he came, thrusting through the orgasm to bring her over with him, he did. “Oh god, Alicia Spinnet-Weasley.”
She smirked as they nestled together on their bed in the Weasley house. “I’m so glad your parents went away on that trip,” she murmured.
“Me too. Do you want to play naughty Quidditch player and coach, next, or should we just have at it in the shower?”
Fandom: Harry Potter
Characters/Pairings: Charlie Weasley, Alicia Spinnet
Rating: NC-17
Word Count:1,817
Summary: When you write poetry about your best mates’ older brother, you really ought to burn it before they find it and give it to him. Or not.
Spoilers: Um. none, really. Not DH compliant, I guess.
A/N: This hasn't been beta'd. I just wrote it tonight in an effort to gear up for NaNo. What have I learned? When all else fails and you're desperate to reach a certain word-count... write porn.
Ali stopped short at the doorway to the bedroom she’d been given in the Weasley household. There on her bed, sat Charlie, smirking at her.
It was the full-size version of the half-grins that the twins wore, and she suddenly felt as though she ought to be a little frightened. She’d been on the receiving end of their pranks more than once, after all, and knew the warning signs. Her thoughts drifted from the Twins to the fact that Charlie was on her bed, and last night she’d had a decidedly naughty dream about him - also in that bed.
Of course, that thought gave way to the question of why Charlie would even notice her at all. Sure, she’d grown up from the somewhat gangly eleven year old that was too small to even try out for Quidditch. She may have been signed onto the Falcon’s Reserve almost immediately after school, but she was nothing spectacular. She stared back at him, unable to speak for a moment.
“Wotcher, Spinnet,” he said.
“What the buggering fuck, Weasley?” she retorted, slapping a hand over her mouth and glaring at him over the top of it.
“Touchy. And here I came to pay you a special visit.” He looked positively cheeky and sure of himself. She hated people like that. Especially when they look that good doing it.
“What do you want, Charlie?” she muttered, moving toward him.
“A little birdie gave me something fascinating to read last night,” Charlie said, pulling out a tattered notebook that Alicia recognized immediately.
“I’m going to tear Fred and George apart with my bare hands,” she muttered and Charlie laughed.
“Let me see, here. Page one: Haiku.”
“Merlin’s balls, Weasley!” Alicia yelped, debating between lunging to shut the door so no one would hear him, and lunging to steal the notebook away. In the end, she tried to do both, and ended up falling right onto the bed beside him.
“Make yourself comfy, Spinnet, there’s a lot of poetry in this book,” Charlie said, flicking his wand to shut and ward the door.
She made a grab for the book and Charlie laughed as he leapt out of her reach.
“Now, now, Spinnet, that wasn’t nice at all,” he said, swishing his wand again.
Alicia tried to move towards him but found herself bound to one of the posts of the four-poster bed.
“There’s a good girl. I’m pretty sure that page 34’s sonnet included something about being tied up, so I know you won’t really mind this. Now listen nicely! The author put a lot of time into these poems.”
Alicia mentally cursed Fred and George, plotting the numerous methods of their demise as Charlie began reading from a notebook she desperately wished she had burned. If she could go back, she would have burned it long before the Twins had found it and taken it as blackmail.
“The Haiku:
Charlie Weasley’s fine
I could count each freckle twice
And adore them more”
“Seriously, Weasley, you’re going to tie me to the bed and read poetry that I wrote when I was fourteen?”
“You were only fourteen when you wrote the limerick?” Charlie asked, and Alicia flushed. “What a naughty girl you were.”
“Seventeen,” she admitted, her cheeks burning. “But the point remains - why are you doing this?”
“The Limerick:
Weasley’s a fine sort of chum,
Raised proper and right by his mum
You’d not hear any snickers
If he said ‘drop your knickers’
I’d happily show him my bum”
He was laughing at her, and it made her frown. This wasn’t the way it was meant to be. It was something she’d written privately, and he was turning her admiration into a joke. Who had she been kidding all this time? Charlie Weasley was not hers, and he never would be.
“I don’t think I’ve ever been so flattered in my life, Spinnet,” Charlie said, a distinct huskiness to his voice that she’d never heard before. It stopped her thoughts immediately and drew her eyes over to where he stood.
“Flattered?” she repeated and he nodded, stepping closer to her and dropping the book to the side.
“Would you drop your knickers for me now, if I asked?” he murmured, leaning down to whisper in her ear.
His breath was warm and hers caught at his words. Without thinking it through, she merely nodded.
“Good.” With that one word, the bonds that had held her to the bedpost were gone, and she blinked at him in surprise. When he arched an eyebrow at her, she realized that he wasn’t exactly asking.
Desire pooled in her belly and she did as he wanted, fingers undoing the button of her denims and sliding them down over her hips to reveal her black thong.
“All these years you’ve wanted me?” he asked, pulling her to him and hooking his fingers in the waistband of her knickers.
“Yes,” she answered simply. It wasn’t any use denying it. He’d already read the abysmal poetry in his honor.
“And here I thought I was barking for noticing you,” he muttered. “Because you were friends with George and Fred, and well on your way to becoming a Quidditch star, and what would a woman like that see in a Dragon tamer? Especially one she’d barely seen through her years growing up.”
Ali opened her mouth to protest, to explain, but he pressed a finger to her lips. “Shh.” With that, he pushed her back onto the bed, and the bindings from earlier were back, tying her arms above her head.
“I’ve already seen how you feel about me, Spinnet,” he murmured and she nearly keened with pleasure as his hands slid up her legs. “Now allow me to return the favour.”
He did away with her shirt and camisole, revealing the breasts she’d always considered too small. Charlie didn’t seem to have a problem with them, however, and he dipped his head to press a kiss to the swell of first one, then the other. His fingers tweaked one nipple as he sucked the other into his mouth.
Ali arched against him, wanting to run fingers through the ginger locks, but her bonds held fast. She huffed in annoyance that after all her dreams and fantasies, Charlie was reciprocating. It was almost too good to be true and the realization hit her like a ton of bricks.
“If you’re Fred or George in disguise, I’m going to absolutely tear you limb from limb. Beginning with your testes.”
Charlie laughed, a deep rumble in his throat and he kissed her. “You’re never afraid to say exactly what you think, are you Spinnet?” he muttered before picking up where he’d left off and ministering to the other breast.
As he slid her knickers down her legs and trailed his tongue along each of her thighs, she decided that she didn’t care any more if it was Fred or George. If they wanted to make her feel like this, she wasn’t entirely opposed.
Her thoughts escaped her as Charlie’s fingers slid up through her folds, circling her clit. He pinched it lightly and she keened loudly.
“Shh, Spinnet,” he muttered. “The walls in this house are paper thin.”
His words made her bite her tongue, though the pressure wore off rapidly as he dipped his head to taste her. She arched against him as best she could, trying to get the right pressure, but Charlie knew exactly what he was doing, and he told her so.
“Enjoy yourself, that’s all,” he said, then dipped his head and began again.
The pace was agonizingly slow but the rhythm was building to a crescendo and as he slid one calloused finger into her, then two, her legs began to tremble. It was when he scissored them and sucked on her clit at the same time that her world collapsed. She was left shaking, her shoulders aching from being tied above her head, and Charlie gave a half hearted wave to release them.
Sitting forward just slightly, Alicia fixed him in her gaze. “It’s my turn now,” she said, grabbing a handful of his shirt and pulling him towards her. She slid it up over his shoulders and pressed him back onto the bed, running her hands along his chest. She found his dragon tattoo and grinned, tracing it carefully before kissing it.
She wound a lazy trail of kisses down his torso to the ginger hair that rose just above his trousers. There, she stopped, pausing for a second to truly take it all in.
With a swift motion she’d grabbed her wand, bound him to the bed, and was left wearing a smirk that rivaled his own.
“And now, Charlie Weasley, I think I’d like to hear some poetry from you.”
“What?” he squawked, tugging helplessly at the bindings, which held as surely as the ones that he had used.
“Do you really think the Twins simply gave you that book?” She shook her head. “No, they’re far more tricky than that. They told me all about your poetry too, only that you had it stored up here -” she tapped his forehead. “Is it true you recite it to the calendar pose that I did?” she queried.
“Bloody buggering fuck, Spinnet, this isn’t funny. You aren’t really going to -”
“Oh, you’ll recite poetry, alright,” Alicia said, vanishing his trousers and pants with another lazy flick of her wand. “Because I’ll give you the worst case of blue balls you’ve ever had, if you don’t.” With the threat now firmly planted in his mind, Alicia dropped her head and took him into her mouth. She circled the tip with her tongue, causing him to buck his hips up toward her mouth.
“Recite,” she commanded, and he began to speak.
The poem was awful, at least as bad as some of her own from when she’d been a mere student, dreaming of things she knew nothing about. When he finally finished, she chuckled with laughter and climbed up his body to kiss him full on the mouth.
“I want one more thing from you, Charlie Weasley,” she said, readying herself above him and releasing his bonds.
“What’s that, Spinnet?” he asked, his large hands coming to cradle her hips.
“Say my name.”
She sank down onto him and moments passed as if they were suspended in time, searing themselves upon her memory.
“F-fuck, Alicia.”
“My whole name, Charlie.”
And as he came, thrusting through the orgasm to bring her over with him, he did. “Oh god, Alicia Spinnet-Weasley.”
She smirked as they nestled together on their bed in the Weasley house. “I’m so glad your parents went away on that trip,” she murmured.
“Me too. Do you want to play naughty Quidditch player and coach, next, or should we just have at it in the shower?”