Fic: Celebration and Consolation
I never bothered to re-post most of the fan fiction I wrote before I got an LJ. Most of those fics have since been lost due to my first FFN account being deleted and my webpage being allowed to disappear into the ether. It was only during my recent re-read of my own HP fics that I realized I had so few A/M fics here. I found this one on my hard drive and I'm posting it without revision in the interest of good record keeping. :P
Title: Celebration and Consolation
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Angelina/Montague
Word Count: 2,492
Summary: After Gryffindor wins the Quidditch Cup (in PoA) Angelina celebrates by consoling Montague over the Slytherins' loss. PWP.
Fifth Year Gryffindor Quidditch player Angelina Johnson deliberately lingered behind her teammates in their locker room. She slowly tended to her broom, then to the bruises she'd received during their game against the Slytherins. She was only now undressing when the Weasley twins and Harry left, having showered and dressed. She was only shampooing her hair when Oliver and Alicia left. She knew Katie intended to wait for her, and urged the other girl to go ahead without her. Eagerly anticipating the celebration in the Gryffindor common room, Katie left.
Angelina sighed and ran her hands over her breasts, glad to finally be alone. Flying through the air was always an exhilarating experience. And playing Quidditch, which was a rough and dangerous game even when played fairly, always excited her. But this game, beating the Slytherin team and finally winning the Quidditch Cup, had affected her more than any of the previous ones. She drew her fingernail along her own neck, imagining that it was someone else's teeth grazing her skin. She sucked on her own bottom lip as she slipped one finger between her legs. She stoked her pussy lips before settling on rubbing her clit.
Montague. Her thoughts settled on the rival Slytherin chaser as her arousal builded. Gods, the way he looked during Care of Magical Ceatures class! A soft moan escaped her lips as she remembered how good he looked, her finger speeding up. It had been a very warm day yesterday, and all of them had taken off their robes. He'd untucked his shirt and loosened his tie. The first two buttons of his shirt had been open too, and his sleeves rolled up. Yeah, he was the nasty Quidditch rival who'd once knocked her off her broom, but she was still a healthy, red-blooded sixteen year old girl. While Fred and George competed over who could bow more outlandishly to the hipogriff, she'd watched Montague. She'd stared at his broad shoulders, and muscular arms, fantasizing about touching him. All the Slytherin players were built like that, it was some sort of team requirement. But she found Montague especially attractive, with his wavy brown hair and glacial blue eyes. She pictured those eyes looking up at her as he sucked on her nipples.
"Oh God," she moaned as more images filled her mind, as another finger joined the one frantically teasing her clit. She pictured herself lying in her own bed, with Montague above her, smirking at her the same way he smirked when he annoyed her during Potions, knowing she couldn't retaliate in Snape's class. She could almost feel him inside her. That phantom sensation drove her over the edge, crying out wordlessly as she came.
Angelina leisurely finished her hot shower and got dressed, using a quick charm to dry her long hair. She closed the door of the locker room behind her, just as Montague stepped out of the Slytherin locker room. Blood rushed to her cheeks as she remembered the way she'd been thinking about him just minutes ago. She wondered if he had been doing the same thing in the shower she'd been doing. She was grateful her dark skin concealed the blushing as her face burned hotter at that thought.
"Johnson, what's the matter with you? Why are you staring?" The object of her lust asked.
"Nothing," she replied, telling herself not to look at him, not to notice how his damp hair curled.
Montague leaned against the wall and folded his arms across his chest, biceps straining against his shirt. "What are you doing here so late, anyway? Waiting to proposition me?" He smirked.
She was about to mumble something biting and hurry away, then she remembered she was a Gryffindor. A lioness, a predator. She didn't run from anything. Angelina smiled flirtatiously, "I could ask you the same thing."
"I was trying to wash away all memory of my house's loss," he said. "The question is, why aren't you celebrating with the rest of your house?"
Her smile widened as she brushed her fingers down down her neck, all the way to her waist. "Maybe I was celebrating in my own way." It was madness, but she felt surreal, like she was performing in a dream. "Care to help me celebrate, Montague?"
His smirk slipped away, replaced by shock then suspicion. He glanced down the dimly lit corridor, "Is this some kind of trap? Are those redheaded idiots waiting to jump on me or something?"
Angelina walked over to him, stopping just before her body touched his. "I'm not playing any games. It's just you, and me, and no one else." She did what she'd been tempted to do for days, and finally ran her hand down his shoulder and along those gorgeous arms. Fred was a beater, so he had muscular arms. But Montague's muscles were bigger. She smiled as she considered what else of Montague's might be bigger.
Montague moved suddenly and then she was the one against the wall, with Montague's hands on her shoulders. She didn't have time to be startled because his lips were on hers. Then his tongue was flickering against her mouth, and she parted her lips to let his tongue brush hers. Her sense of surreality fled, she was intensely aware of reality now. The hardness of the stone wall, the chilled air around her, the slight smell of sweat that permeated the locker rooms; she was aware of all of it. But the most intense sensation was the feel of Montague's body against hers, the taste of his mouth, and, as his hands grabbed her hips and pulled her closer, the bulge in his trousers against her stomach.
As he broke the kiss and began kissing a trail down her neck, she wrapped her arms around him and tilted her head back. "Oh God, Montague," she whispered, the fear of someone finding them like this only increasing her excitement.
"You haven't recovered from your lapse in sanity, have you, Johnson?" he asked, his lips brushing her ear.
The sound of his voice so close was strangely erotic. She shivered and pressed her lips against his throat. She kissed the soft, pale skin before replying, "No, and I'm not going to any time soon."
He peeled her off him and walked over to the door of the Slytherin locker room. He held the door open, "Coming, Johnson?"
"Soon, I hope," she said, walking pass him into a room identical to the Gryffindor locker room. He laughed, and walked over to another door, across from the showers. It was the door to the team captain's office. The thought of having sex with Montague on Flint's desk was disturbingly arousing. She wondered how Flint would react if he knew, whether he'd be angry or excited by the idea.
"Do I even want to know what you're thinking?" Montague asked as he unbuttoned his shirt.
Angelina put her hands on his to stop him and untucked his shirt herself. "I was just wondering what Flint would think if he saw us," she said as she pulled the shirt off him. He had wonderfully tight abdominal muscles covered by just the right amount of dark hair. She started kissing every inch of his torso.
"He'd be jealous," Montague said. "Any Slytherin male would love the opportunity to, um, get better acquainted with the Gryffindor goddess, especially the rest of the team."
Angelina sank to her knees and unzipped Montague's pants, "The Gryffindor goddess?" She delicately licked the head of his cock.
"Oh, yeah," Montague said. "You're the most Gryffindor of the Gryffindor girls, and you're hot. It's only natural that we all fantasize about you."
Angelina ran her tongue along the entire length of his cock. "So, all that aggression on the Quidditch pitch is from sexual frustration?"
Montague moaned, then he said, "Of course. What, you thought slamming into you and the other two chasers was purely about getting the quaffle? Oh, no, it's an expression of how much we'd love to really slam into you."
Angelina laughed. Her fingers caressed his balls as she spoke, "Since you like talking about Quidditch so much, I should mention how much playing against you big, mean Slytherins turns me on." She took only the head of his cock into her mouth and sucked on it for a second before continuing, "It made me so hot and wet, I had to touch myself in the shower." She took a couple more inches of him into her mouth this time, before stopping to say, "I thought of you while I did it."
"You'd better stop that if you want me to fuck you," Montague warned, even as his hand tangled in her hair, trying to keep her there.
Angelina pulled away from him and rose to her feet. She quickly removed her tank top and jeans. "So fuck me now, Montague," she said as she tossed her underwear on the floor.
Montague picked her up and put her on Flint's desk. She laid back and spread her legs invitingly. She expected him to thrust into her immediately, but he surprised her by kissing her. She started to lick his lips but he quickly moved down her body, her skin feelingly searingly hot wherever his lips touched. She raised her hips in anticipation. She moaned wordlessly as she felt his tongue against her clit. Her thighs tried to clamp around him and he pressed them down on the hard wood of the desk. Her hands griped the edges of the desk, needing something to hold on to as each stroke of his tongue sent her higher and higher up. She was just on the brink of coming when he stopped.
"Montague!" she complained. He smirked at her as he slowly entered her pussy. "God," she moaned. The feeling of him filling her completely was a thousand times better than her imaginings earlier.
"Not God, " he said, his eyes staring in hers. "Just a lowly Slytherin." His hands pinned down her hips, preventing her from trying to get more of him as fast as she could.
Angelina liked it hard and fast. This kind of slow teasing felt like torture to her nerves. "Just fuck me, Montague."
If anything, he slowed down. "No can do, Johnson, this is my consolation prize," he said, still smirking, his blue eyes still locked with her brown ones.
"Consolation prize?"
"For the Quidditch match we just played. You get the victory and the cup. I get to make you beg."
She'd forgotten about the stupid Quidditch game. "All right, Montague, all right, you've gotten your revenge." She should be embarrassed that he was trying to humiliate her like this, but she was too distracted by the look in his eyes to care. Her eyes automatically closed during sex, usually. Looking into the eyes of the man inside her was unbelievable intimate and erotic.
"Not quite, Angelina," he said. "You still haven't used my first name."
She smirked back at him, "What, we're on a first name basis now? Next thing you know, you'll be passing me notes in class, asking me to meet you in closets for a quick snog between classes."
His smirk turned into a genuine smile, "Do you want me to?"
"What I want, Montague, " she said, putting emphasis on his name, "is for you to shut up and fuck me hard."
Really, most males could not resist such words. But Montague was made of sterner stuff than she'd ever given him credit for. "Say my name, just once," he persisted.
Angelina pinched her nipples and arched provocatively. However, rather than make Montague do as she wanted, he stopped completely. Thankfully, he was still fully inside her.
"Just once, Angelina." He was the one begging now.
Angelina smiled. Gryffindor wins again. She said his first name aloud, that odd name that made some of the muggleborns look at him strangely when they heard it. He immediately began to thrust in and out of her the way she'd requested, hard and fast. Their gazes were still locked, and the rest of the world had ceased to exist. There was only this pleasure, which bordered on pain and was made even better. Her orgasm was almost a surprise. As she laid there panting, she hoped he'd ease up a bit. Her senses had become rational again, and pain and pleasure didn't feel the same any more. This eye contact thing, Angelina thought as Montague's thrusts grew less rough, seemed practically telepathic. Or maybe he just didn't like it rough, which seemed strange to Angelina because in her experience (a grand total of two guys), guys were relieved she liked it rough.
She continued staring into Montague's eyes, smiling languidly as she waited for him to come. His hands finally released her hips - she knew there would be bruises there shaped like his hands for at least a week - and he cupped her breasts, thumbs rubbing her nipples. Angelina caught one of his hands and brought it to her mouth. She kissed the palm of his hand before taking his finger into her mouth, sucking it gently. He came silently, collapsing onto her. She could feel his heart beating, just a few inches away from her own. She finally ran her hand through his hair, which was what she'd thought about during all of her last History of Magic class.
He was heavy, but Angelina didn't mind. She loved the feel of his skin next to hers. When he got off her and went to sit in the one chair in the room, Angelina followed him and curled in his lap. He put his arms around her and kissed her forehead. Angelina felt like crying, because it was so fucking perfect and yet she was with Montague; and those two things should be a contradiction, not perfection.
Montague spoke first, "So, you want to meet me in the second floor, west wing closet during midmorning break on Monday?"
Angelina laughed, "Oh yeah. And in the transfiguration classroom during lunch." She remembered what day it was and what had happened. "I've got to go, I'm missing the Gryffindor celebration. Did you enjoy your consolation prize?"
"It was worth losing." He smiled. "But don't tell Marcus I said that. Did you enjoy your private celebration?"
"You know I did." She returned his smile. And despite all their past history, and all the smirks and sneers she saw on his face in the next few years, it was always that image of a relaxed, smiling Montague that was imprinted on her memory. He kissed her then, and she thought that a kiss from Montague shouldn't be this sweet.
"Hey," he said as they both dressed. "Do you think Marcus and Wood will go through with that bet they made last year?"
"Stranger things have happened," she replied on her way to the door. "See you soon, Montague."
End
Title: Celebration and Consolation
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Angelina/Montague
Word Count: 2,492
Summary: After Gryffindor wins the Quidditch Cup (in PoA) Angelina celebrates by consoling Montague over the Slytherins' loss. PWP.
Fifth Year Gryffindor Quidditch player Angelina Johnson deliberately lingered behind her teammates in their locker room. She slowly tended to her broom, then to the bruises she'd received during their game against the Slytherins. She was only now undressing when the Weasley twins and Harry left, having showered and dressed. She was only shampooing her hair when Oliver and Alicia left. She knew Katie intended to wait for her, and urged the other girl to go ahead without her. Eagerly anticipating the celebration in the Gryffindor common room, Katie left.
Angelina sighed and ran her hands over her breasts, glad to finally be alone. Flying through the air was always an exhilarating experience. And playing Quidditch, which was a rough and dangerous game even when played fairly, always excited her. But this game, beating the Slytherin team and finally winning the Quidditch Cup, had affected her more than any of the previous ones. She drew her fingernail along her own neck, imagining that it was someone else's teeth grazing her skin. She sucked on her own bottom lip as she slipped one finger between her legs. She stoked her pussy lips before settling on rubbing her clit.
Montague. Her thoughts settled on the rival Slytherin chaser as her arousal builded. Gods, the way he looked during Care of Magical Ceatures class! A soft moan escaped her lips as she remembered how good he looked, her finger speeding up. It had been a very warm day yesterday, and all of them had taken off their robes. He'd untucked his shirt and loosened his tie. The first two buttons of his shirt had been open too, and his sleeves rolled up. Yeah, he was the nasty Quidditch rival who'd once knocked her off her broom, but she was still a healthy, red-blooded sixteen year old girl. While Fred and George competed over who could bow more outlandishly to the hipogriff, she'd watched Montague. She'd stared at his broad shoulders, and muscular arms, fantasizing about touching him. All the Slytherin players were built like that, it was some sort of team requirement. But she found Montague especially attractive, with his wavy brown hair and glacial blue eyes. She pictured those eyes looking up at her as he sucked on her nipples.
"Oh God," she moaned as more images filled her mind, as another finger joined the one frantically teasing her clit. She pictured herself lying in her own bed, with Montague above her, smirking at her the same way he smirked when he annoyed her during Potions, knowing she couldn't retaliate in Snape's class. She could almost feel him inside her. That phantom sensation drove her over the edge, crying out wordlessly as she came.
Angelina leisurely finished her hot shower and got dressed, using a quick charm to dry her long hair. She closed the door of the locker room behind her, just as Montague stepped out of the Slytherin locker room. Blood rushed to her cheeks as she remembered the way she'd been thinking about him just minutes ago. She wondered if he had been doing the same thing in the shower she'd been doing. She was grateful her dark skin concealed the blushing as her face burned hotter at that thought.
"Johnson, what's the matter with you? Why are you staring?" The object of her lust asked.
"Nothing," she replied, telling herself not to look at him, not to notice how his damp hair curled.
Montague leaned against the wall and folded his arms across his chest, biceps straining against his shirt. "What are you doing here so late, anyway? Waiting to proposition me?" He smirked.
She was about to mumble something biting and hurry away, then she remembered she was a Gryffindor. A lioness, a predator. She didn't run from anything. Angelina smiled flirtatiously, "I could ask you the same thing."
"I was trying to wash away all memory of my house's loss," he said. "The question is, why aren't you celebrating with the rest of your house?"
Her smile widened as she brushed her fingers down down her neck, all the way to her waist. "Maybe I was celebrating in my own way." It was madness, but she felt surreal, like she was performing in a dream. "Care to help me celebrate, Montague?"
His smirk slipped away, replaced by shock then suspicion. He glanced down the dimly lit corridor, "Is this some kind of trap? Are those redheaded idiots waiting to jump on me or something?"
Angelina walked over to him, stopping just before her body touched his. "I'm not playing any games. It's just you, and me, and no one else." She did what she'd been tempted to do for days, and finally ran her hand down his shoulder and along those gorgeous arms. Fred was a beater, so he had muscular arms. But Montague's muscles were bigger. She smiled as she considered what else of Montague's might be bigger.
Montague moved suddenly and then she was the one against the wall, with Montague's hands on her shoulders. She didn't have time to be startled because his lips were on hers. Then his tongue was flickering against her mouth, and she parted her lips to let his tongue brush hers. Her sense of surreality fled, she was intensely aware of reality now. The hardness of the stone wall, the chilled air around her, the slight smell of sweat that permeated the locker rooms; she was aware of all of it. But the most intense sensation was the feel of Montague's body against hers, the taste of his mouth, and, as his hands grabbed her hips and pulled her closer, the bulge in his trousers against her stomach.
As he broke the kiss and began kissing a trail down her neck, she wrapped her arms around him and tilted her head back. "Oh God, Montague," she whispered, the fear of someone finding them like this only increasing her excitement.
"You haven't recovered from your lapse in sanity, have you, Johnson?" he asked, his lips brushing her ear.
The sound of his voice so close was strangely erotic. She shivered and pressed her lips against his throat. She kissed the soft, pale skin before replying, "No, and I'm not going to any time soon."
He peeled her off him and walked over to the door of the Slytherin locker room. He held the door open, "Coming, Johnson?"
"Soon, I hope," she said, walking pass him into a room identical to the Gryffindor locker room. He laughed, and walked over to another door, across from the showers. It was the door to the team captain's office. The thought of having sex with Montague on Flint's desk was disturbingly arousing. She wondered how Flint would react if he knew, whether he'd be angry or excited by the idea.
"Do I even want to know what you're thinking?" Montague asked as he unbuttoned his shirt.
Angelina put her hands on his to stop him and untucked his shirt herself. "I was just wondering what Flint would think if he saw us," she said as she pulled the shirt off him. He had wonderfully tight abdominal muscles covered by just the right amount of dark hair. She started kissing every inch of his torso.
"He'd be jealous," Montague said. "Any Slytherin male would love the opportunity to, um, get better acquainted with the Gryffindor goddess, especially the rest of the team."
Angelina sank to her knees and unzipped Montague's pants, "The Gryffindor goddess?" She delicately licked the head of his cock.
"Oh, yeah," Montague said. "You're the most Gryffindor of the Gryffindor girls, and you're hot. It's only natural that we all fantasize about you."
Angelina ran her tongue along the entire length of his cock. "So, all that aggression on the Quidditch pitch is from sexual frustration?"
Montague moaned, then he said, "Of course. What, you thought slamming into you and the other two chasers was purely about getting the quaffle? Oh, no, it's an expression of how much we'd love to really slam into you."
Angelina laughed. Her fingers caressed his balls as she spoke, "Since you like talking about Quidditch so much, I should mention how much playing against you big, mean Slytherins turns me on." She took only the head of his cock into her mouth and sucked on it for a second before continuing, "It made me so hot and wet, I had to touch myself in the shower." She took a couple more inches of him into her mouth this time, before stopping to say, "I thought of you while I did it."
"You'd better stop that if you want me to fuck you," Montague warned, even as his hand tangled in her hair, trying to keep her there.
Angelina pulled away from him and rose to her feet. She quickly removed her tank top and jeans. "So fuck me now, Montague," she said as she tossed her underwear on the floor.
Montague picked her up and put her on Flint's desk. She laid back and spread her legs invitingly. She expected him to thrust into her immediately, but he surprised her by kissing her. She started to lick his lips but he quickly moved down her body, her skin feelingly searingly hot wherever his lips touched. She raised her hips in anticipation. She moaned wordlessly as she felt his tongue against her clit. Her thighs tried to clamp around him and he pressed them down on the hard wood of the desk. Her hands griped the edges of the desk, needing something to hold on to as each stroke of his tongue sent her higher and higher up. She was just on the brink of coming when he stopped.
"Montague!" she complained. He smirked at her as he slowly entered her pussy. "God," she moaned. The feeling of him filling her completely was a thousand times better than her imaginings earlier.
"Not God, " he said, his eyes staring in hers. "Just a lowly Slytherin." His hands pinned down her hips, preventing her from trying to get more of him as fast as she could.
Angelina liked it hard and fast. This kind of slow teasing felt like torture to her nerves. "Just fuck me, Montague."
If anything, he slowed down. "No can do, Johnson, this is my consolation prize," he said, still smirking, his blue eyes still locked with her brown ones.
"Consolation prize?"
"For the Quidditch match we just played. You get the victory and the cup. I get to make you beg."
She'd forgotten about the stupid Quidditch game. "All right, Montague, all right, you've gotten your revenge." She should be embarrassed that he was trying to humiliate her like this, but she was too distracted by the look in his eyes to care. Her eyes automatically closed during sex, usually. Looking into the eyes of the man inside her was unbelievable intimate and erotic.
"Not quite, Angelina," he said. "You still haven't used my first name."
She smirked back at him, "What, we're on a first name basis now? Next thing you know, you'll be passing me notes in class, asking me to meet you in closets for a quick snog between classes."
His smirk turned into a genuine smile, "Do you want me to?"
"What I want, Montague, " she said, putting emphasis on his name, "is for you to shut up and fuck me hard."
Really, most males could not resist such words. But Montague was made of sterner stuff than she'd ever given him credit for. "Say my name, just once," he persisted.
Angelina pinched her nipples and arched provocatively. However, rather than make Montague do as she wanted, he stopped completely. Thankfully, he was still fully inside her.
"Just once, Angelina." He was the one begging now.
Angelina smiled. Gryffindor wins again. She said his first name aloud, that odd name that made some of the muggleborns look at him strangely when they heard it. He immediately began to thrust in and out of her the way she'd requested, hard and fast. Their gazes were still locked, and the rest of the world had ceased to exist. There was only this pleasure, which bordered on pain and was made even better. Her orgasm was almost a surprise. As she laid there panting, she hoped he'd ease up a bit. Her senses had become rational again, and pain and pleasure didn't feel the same any more. This eye contact thing, Angelina thought as Montague's thrusts grew less rough, seemed practically telepathic. Or maybe he just didn't like it rough, which seemed strange to Angelina because in her experience (a grand total of two guys), guys were relieved she liked it rough.
She continued staring into Montague's eyes, smiling languidly as she waited for him to come. His hands finally released her hips - she knew there would be bruises there shaped like his hands for at least a week - and he cupped her breasts, thumbs rubbing her nipples. Angelina caught one of his hands and brought it to her mouth. She kissed the palm of his hand before taking his finger into her mouth, sucking it gently. He came silently, collapsing onto her. She could feel his heart beating, just a few inches away from her own. She finally ran her hand through his hair, which was what she'd thought about during all of her last History of Magic class.
He was heavy, but Angelina didn't mind. She loved the feel of his skin next to hers. When he got off her and went to sit in the one chair in the room, Angelina followed him and curled in his lap. He put his arms around her and kissed her forehead. Angelina felt like crying, because it was so fucking perfect and yet she was with Montague; and those two things should be a contradiction, not perfection.
Montague spoke first, "So, you want to meet me in the second floor, west wing closet during midmorning break on Monday?"
Angelina laughed, "Oh yeah. And in the transfiguration classroom during lunch." She remembered what day it was and what had happened. "I've got to go, I'm missing the Gryffindor celebration. Did you enjoy your consolation prize?"
"It was worth losing." He smiled. "But don't tell Marcus I said that. Did you enjoy your private celebration?"
"You know I did." She returned his smile. And despite all their past history, and all the smirks and sneers she saw on his face in the next few years, it was always that image of a relaxed, smiling Montague that was imprinted on her memory. He kissed her then, and she thought that a kiss from Montague shouldn't be this sweet.
"Hey," he said as they both dressed. "Do you think Marcus and Wood will go through with that bet they made last year?"
"Stranger things have happened," she replied on her way to the door. "See you soon, Montague."
End