Prompt 29 - Bright Lights, Big City
Title: Bright Lights, Big City
Author: ladybracknell
Format & Word Count: Ficlet, 596
Rating: R
Prompt: 29, picture of lion and The Millenium Eye
Warning: Rated R for sex, but it's pretty vague.
Summary: They've been out six times, which is five times more than he expected, and twice more than he had ideas for.
Author's Note: Took a slight liberty with the timeline, since the Millenium Eye wasn't actually built when this is set.... Feedback always appreciated :).
Her fingers tighten in his hair as she breathes his name into his ear, and all he can think is that her skin tastes like cherries, and that if he’d ever stopped to think about it, he’d have known that already, because it makes perfect sense.
She pulls away a little and looks at him, and the trust in her eyes takes away what little breath he has left and thrills him almost as much as the sensations coursing through his body.
They’ve been out together six times so far, which is five times more than he expected and twice more than he had ideas for. Every time they’ve been out he’s thought that this will be the night she comes to her senses and gives him the brush off, the ‘well, this has been nice’ speech as she turns into her flat with a faint smile and then they descend into embarrassed glances at Grimmauld and plotting each other’s demise with kitchen implements.
But instead of that tonight on the doorstep, she said “Come in,” and when he realised it wasn’t a question he pressed her against the doorframe and kissed her with all he was worth.
Which he thinks is how he ended up naked in her bed with her fingers in his hair, although if he’s honest everything between the doorway and the bed is a bit of a blur.
He’s always loved London most at night. In the day the city nearly drowns in commuters and car fumes, but at night it has space to breathe and comes alive - the bridges light up, the theatres, cinemas, and restaurants he can’t afford to take her to bristle with promise, and there’s the faint whisper of mischief in the air.
He thinks there’s probably a metaphor in there somewhere about how he’s like London, strangled by duty, and how she’s the one who lights him up and sets him free, but at the moment he can’t quite make sense of it. Not with her doing that to his neck with her teeth.
They strolled along the Thames - walked for miles, probably, he thinks - pointing out the Muggle tourist attractions, laughing at each other’s jokes and flirting - and when she took his hand and told him that she liked this better than fancy restaurants and the theatre, it was all too easy to believe her.
They walked as far as some big wheel thing the Muggles are building, where there’s a statue of a lion. She said he looked sad, but Remus argued that he was brave not mournful, and for a moment it struck him as odd that she was the one making pejorative assumptions about the lion’s mood.
Looking back, he owes that lion, mournful gaze or not, a lot, because his defence of its expression made her laugh and he knows that his ability to make her laugh is the reason that she likes him.
He half expects her to wake up with regret in her eyes and the words Dark creature on her lips, but she doesn’t. She turns to him and wishes him good morning with a smile, and then sniggers into the crook of his neck, and he wraps an arm around her and pulls her close.
For a second he wonders how long it will last, how long she’ll be content with walks instead of restaurants, whether one day she’ll tire of being the bright lights to his big city - but it seems silly to worry about one day when today has just dawned, and started so promisingly.
Author: ladybracknell
Format & Word Count: Ficlet, 596
Rating: R
Prompt: 29, picture of lion and The Millenium Eye
Warning: Rated R for sex, but it's pretty vague.
Summary: They've been out six times, which is five times more than he expected, and twice more than he had ideas for.
Author's Note: Took a slight liberty with the timeline, since the Millenium Eye wasn't actually built when this is set.... Feedback always appreciated :).
Her fingers tighten in his hair as she breathes his name into his ear, and all he can think is that her skin tastes like cherries, and that if he’d ever stopped to think about it, he’d have known that already, because it makes perfect sense.
She pulls away a little and looks at him, and the trust in her eyes takes away what little breath he has left and thrills him almost as much as the sensations coursing through his body.
They’ve been out together six times so far, which is five times more than he expected and twice more than he had ideas for. Every time they’ve been out he’s thought that this will be the night she comes to her senses and gives him the brush off, the ‘well, this has been nice’ speech as she turns into her flat with a faint smile and then they descend into embarrassed glances at Grimmauld and plotting each other’s demise with kitchen implements.
But instead of that tonight on the doorstep, she said “Come in,” and when he realised it wasn’t a question he pressed her against the doorframe and kissed her with all he was worth.
Which he thinks is how he ended up naked in her bed with her fingers in his hair, although if he’s honest everything between the doorway and the bed is a bit of a blur.
He’s always loved London most at night. In the day the city nearly drowns in commuters and car fumes, but at night it has space to breathe and comes alive - the bridges light up, the theatres, cinemas, and restaurants he can’t afford to take her to bristle with promise, and there’s the faint whisper of mischief in the air.
He thinks there’s probably a metaphor in there somewhere about how he’s like London, strangled by duty, and how she’s the one who lights him up and sets him free, but at the moment he can’t quite make sense of it. Not with her doing that to his neck with her teeth.
They strolled along the Thames - walked for miles, probably, he thinks - pointing out the Muggle tourist attractions, laughing at each other’s jokes and flirting - and when she took his hand and told him that she liked this better than fancy restaurants and the theatre, it was all too easy to believe her.
They walked as far as some big wheel thing the Muggles are building, where there’s a statue of a lion. She said he looked sad, but Remus argued that he was brave not mournful, and for a moment it struck him as odd that she was the one making pejorative assumptions about the lion’s mood.
Looking back, he owes that lion, mournful gaze or not, a lot, because his defence of its expression made her laugh and he knows that his ability to make her laugh is the reason that she likes him.
He half expects her to wake up with regret in her eyes and the words Dark creature on her lips, but she doesn’t. She turns to him and wishes him good morning with a smile, and then sniggers into the crook of his neck, and he wraps an arm around her and pulls her close.
For a second he wonders how long it will last, how long she’ll be content with walks instead of restaurants, whether one day she’ll tire of being the bright lights to his big city - but it seems silly to worry about one day when today has just dawned, and started so promisingly.