HP fic: Air Game (George/Oliver), NC-17, 3388 words
Fic. Harry Potter fic. Yeah, I don't know what got a hold of me. It's porny and long, if not the best George voice I've ever managed. I just felt like doing a quick bit of smut but Oliver needs a little sweet-talking to get down and dirty, it seems.
glockgal is always an inspiration. For you, my dear.
( George Weasley, the dashing Gryffindor Quidditch captain, and a little help from a broomstick named Esmeralda. Or like, boys fucking in the air held up by nothing but a broomstick. Whichever turns your crank. )
glockgal is always an inspiration. For you, my dear.
( George Weasley, the dashing Gryffindor Quidditch captain, and a little help from a broomstick named Esmeralda. Or like, boys fucking in the air held up by nothing but a broomstick. Whichever turns your crank. )
Wizards' jock straps are magically accomodating. George's grip isn't.
So good and clever and to the point but not nasty, I nearly died with glee.
George feels soft flesh and slick moisture and their shared warmth and the chilling air and rapid puffs of breath and sticky sweat and silky hair and calloused fingers and Oliver's solid weight and his lean limbs everywhere.
Mmmm, the run on sentence and the rush and feeling of the continual sentiment is just so incredibly intoxicating. It's all just sensations and images flashing and gaaaaaah. I love it.
"Are you... MAD?!" And for Oliver to get so worked up about anything not involving Quidditch is quite remarkable.
Okay, this entire part? BWAAAAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAH! Oh my god, like I said, if I loved George before? I am completely obsessed with him now. I love it! I love Oliver's helpless reaction! I love that Goerge wants to make Oliver say the things George wants to hear. I love that George knows how to bait and knows what to say and it so utterly, totally cocky and blase, but enjoying himself SO much nonetheless. That's a fine balance, and one he sure can tread adeptly. Guh guh.
George plasters a bland smile on his face, brows expectantly raised.
Soooooo much with the loving right now. Somuch.
"Please... it's better the Quidditch."
And ooh, that was good. That was bloody brilliant. And people say Oliver's a little dense.
[beta] "...it's better than Quidditch"[/beta]
And god YES if there is anything better for Oliver to say, he doesn't even know himself. He just said George is better than Quidditch? Oh my god. Like what a great climax, in more ways than one.
And an impatient jolt from Esmeralda tells him there's really no need to keep Oliver waiting on another round.
I love that it ends with Esmerelda. Bweeeheeee! What a team they make. Excuse me, I'm just gonna go swoon in a corner now, since George pretty much just turns me into a swirling puddle of mush. *mwah* I love you for writing this. <3
If George wasn't so incredibly gay, he'd be every females dream come true. At least, the way you write him. And, at least, to me.
George had read, when he was younger, about captains who were loved by their ships.
See, and right off from the start, you had to insert captains and their crew and their love and just all Master and Commandery and my goodness. How could I NOT fall in love with this fic? It's got! Everything!
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Ohhh, it's just so fantastic. The personality and vivacity with which you summarized Emerelda is just so perfect. And almost, like. You can't tell where George Weasley ends off and where the broom begins, because she is so much a part of him. And yet not. Those darn Slytherins! That she has a name and personality only makes their hurled insults that much more angering.
So while Esmeralda suited him just dandy, it was quite another thing to find the right womanfriend at Hogwarts. Or the British Isles. Or, in fact, the world. He wasn't really looking, anyway.
Bless him. You always get the George-tone so spot-on. There's never anything I can do to describe it more, it's just. Fantastic.
She made George look good.
That she did. Eee, I love broom-and-owner symbiosis! And the switch from George's POV to Esmerelda's is hilarious and adorable.
They were beautiful, even, at their best; when they became a force, they became flight, and they became Quidditch. And George, for all his teasing, did pause in his own quest for victory when he saw such displays out of the corner of his eye, even if only for the briefest millisecond which wouldn't interfere with game strategy.
God, your descriptions, as always are so lush and revealing of the natures and feelings of the characters. That's one very distinctive thing about your writing style, I find. When it comes to fic. It's whimsical and elaborate, but always manages to summarize the characters in a completely perfunctory way. I wish I could just quote sentence after sentence to prove my point, but you'll just have to trust me on this.
They were beautiful this morning, against the creamy layers of dawn
Pretty! I love that description so much! Creamy! Agaaaaah.
George and Esmeralda always gave each other what they wanted, in the end.
Awwwwww yeeeeaaaaaah. Esmerelda is one helluva good ally.
Because George always defied fear.
Guh. Hot. I'll be saying that a lot. Your George usually tends to render me speechless.
What they both could count on, she and George (and they were together on this, though perhaps he wasn't as aware of the ultimate ambition), was that Oliver would look back. Perhaps it was an uncertainty acquired through years of being tuned-out when he gushed too long about Quidditch, but eventually Oliver would hesitate, check up on his audience, make sure he wasn't alone.
So beautifully illustrated and precise. You always sound like you know exactly what to say and how to say it.
George's eyes are drawn to the clear drops sliding down his lovely neck and into his scarlet robes.
GUH. HOT.
"Hello!" says George at the same time, more as an exclamation than a greeting.
Holy god I love him so badly right now. And I know it's only gonna get worse.
George leans back languidly, with all the becoming grace he can master, but he is careful. He doesn't want to be too obvious. Not tasteless, per se, because Oliver isn't one to be concerned about how classily things are or aren't done (outside of Quidditch, minor infractions are acceptable), but Oliver is awkward at best in average non-Quidditch-related social scenarios
*flaps* Because! It's true! Oh, it's all true. So true. I dunno how you do it. I'm sorry, I sound like an idiot. It's just all so right! You make them sound and feel and think and behave and BE so right.
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<3333
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I love you. You are wonderful (see above) and that is why I give you stuff you might not really want. XD
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In all honesty, I'm lost (he he...sorry) without you! I haven't drawn the twins in forever - it's simply tragic. You were the muse behind my jock love. Don't make me break out into Cultrue Club's Do You Really Wanna Hurt Me .
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*SHAME*
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