Tonight (I'm Fucking You) - R
Title: “Tonight (I’m Fucking You)”
Fandom: HP post-canon (Mortua Lunae)
Genre: Romance
Pairing: Storm/Victoire
Rating: R
Warnings: Smut, almost PWP, sexual content, alcohol use
Summary: She’d finally managed to drag him to a club, but not being required to dance ended up being more of a torment than a reprieve.
A/N: This is really just intended for the folks at Luna, but anyone can read it; it’s basically word porn after all. Its title comes from the Enrique Iglesias song of the same name, which also appears in this fic’s playlist. It is dedicated to theslashbunny, who owns Storm (I own Victoire). Also, this is my first legitimate attempt at writing something porny that is also heterosexual. Strange, I know. Anyway, here goes!
The room was dark, crowded, and reeked of alcohol and sweat. Music was playing loud enough to give him a headache, but he wouldn’t complain - not tonight. Tonight, he’d agreed to try something new and give Victoire the satisfaction of helping him “branch out”. He had not been thrilled when she told him they were going to one of London’s “hottest new clubs”, but in the end he couldn’t bring himself to refuse her.
Then again, once he’d seen what she was wearing, most of his reluctance was forgotten.
Victoire was stunning: she stood out even in a room full of attractive young people, and Storm felt a swell of pride at the thought that she was his. She took his hand and led him farther into the club, and once they’d arrived at the crowded bar she ordered them each a drink “to take the edge off”. Within minutes Storm was nursing a glass of brandy, while Victoire was sipping enthusiastically on some bizarre, green-colored beverage he didn’t recognize. After she’d finished her drink, the blonde stood on her tiptoes and spoke into his ear so she could be heard over the crowd.
“I’m going to dance, but you don’t have to if you’d rather stay here,” she said in what probably would have been a tender whisper had they not been surrounded by a hundred or more people. Storm just nodded, figuring he could sit and watch her from his position at the bar. She turned and disappeared into the crowd, but he caught an occasional glimpse of her as she made her way through the mass of writhing bodies.
The intricacies of modern Muggle music had always baffled him, as did the current song which seemed to be about a rather lewd person with a learning disability - what kind of person couldn’t pronounce a simple word like “love”? All the same, the patrons of the club appeared to enjoy such music and the entire crowd was gyrating in one big chaotic mess.
Victoire was easy enough to spot: she was close to the middle of the dance floor, hair whipping around like a golden cascade and expression one of sheer joy as she twirled and swayed to the beat. Storm was caught up in his staring and didn’t even notice when his fully drained glass was replaced, simply picking up the cold brandy and allowing it to cool his increasingly warm insides as it slid down his throat.
The next song came on just as the other faded into the background, and several of the people around him moved away from the bar and onto the dance floor while a whole crowd returned to get drinks and rest. He paid them no mind; his eyes were still firmly locked on Victoire, who was moving like it was what she was made to do. She had this undeniable air of gracefulness around her, making even the Muggles surrounding her step back slightly so they could watch. Her hips swayed from side to side as she slowly lowered herself almost to the floor and came back up, muscles in her legs tensing from the effort before relaxing again. Merlin, her legs...
In a more formal environment he would have been worried that his staring was highly inappropriate; after all, if he was to stare at Victoire it should be into her eyes while she spoke to him and nothing more. He most certainly should not be staring at her waist, her hips, her legs as she twisted her body around to the flow of the music. But it was dark in the club, and no one was paying him any attention, so just for a moment he would allow himself to cave to temptation and do as he pleased. If anyone asked him later, he would vehemently deny that he’d been anything but a gentleman.
Victoire must have looked his way and caught him watching, because she fixed him with a look that he recognized as the mischievous one she wore when trying to pull him out of his comfort zone. She slid her hands down to her hips and swayed, dragging them back up her body and throwing them over her head as she twirled around again. How did she ever get so good at this? If he’d tried to dance, he’d either knock someone else over or trip over his own feet; that could only end with Victoire laughing at him or struggling not to, so it was best to avoid it altogether.
”Doctor, Doctor, give me something to make me feel good...”
The song seemed to be about some sort of medical professional - a good fit for Victoire - but one would never have guessed by the way people were dancing. Storm found himself fighting back a blush as he looked on; the majority of people were turning to a partner and beginning a ritual of grinding against one another that was more a mating routine than an actual dance. He tensed upon seeing several pairs of hopeful eyes drift toward Victoire, but if she noticed she gave no indication. Instead she drifted toward him, graceful as ever, and once she was leaning against his side he could tell that she was flushed from dancing and extremely warm.
She smiled up at him, making his stomach twist into knots, and sighed softly as she briefly laid her head over on his shoulder. After ordering another drink from the bartender, she removed herself from his side and carefully situated herself on the bar stool next to his. He smiled at her before going back to his own drink, and for a while they sat in relative silence.
“You aren’t having a good time,” she said finally, and it wasn’t a question. Storm just shook his head and smiled, reaching out and being bold by taking her hand in his as he leaned in to murmur in her ear.
“I’m enjoying watching as much as you’re enjoying dancing,” he said softly and buried his nose in her blonde curls for just a moment to take in her intoxicating scent. He flushed a bright pink upon realizing just how suggestive his comment had sounded...this place lent itself to a wantonness in which he typically did not allow himself to participate. Victoire didn’t seem offended by his words, though, as she was still just smiling up at him with that mischievous glint in her azure eyes. As the song changed yet again, she set down her drink beside his and wandered back to the dance floor, hips already moving to the beat.
Perhaps he could blame some of it on the alcohol - which glass was he on again? - but Storm felt like his insides were twisting in a feeling quite similar to the one he felt each time they kissed. The feeling that made him want to pull her into his arms and kiss her until her knees grew weak, then lay her over the nearest available (comfortable) surface and watch her slowly come undone under his touch. He could feel his face heating up as he thought about it...he’d never allowed himself to be drawn in so far into the fantasy, and now he knew precisely why. Because now, as he watched Victoire writhe about to the music, all he could picture was her writhing beneath him and calling his name. As he listened to the pounding bass in his ears, all he could hear was the way her heartbeat would quicken as he worked to bring her to all new and intoxicating levels of pleasure. As he felt the press of the crowd moving around him to get to the bar, all he could feel was the gentle touch of her heated skin against his own.
This was going to be a problem. He could feel his hands trembling, and his body felt like it was on fire. Just watching Victoire move was becoming a problem, but he couldn’t bring himself to look away. She caught his eye again - how did she know? - and smirked.
That was it.
He stood from his seat at the bar, leaving his empty glass on the top along with what he thought was enough Muggle money for the bill, and made his way into the crowd of people. He towered over a good deal of them, so it was fairly easy to reach Victoire. When he did, he reached down and gently grasped her hand before leaning in to murmur into her ear.
“Let’s go,” he said and gave her a gentle tug, to which she responded with another devilish smirk and a nod. Seriously, this woman was going to be the death of him.
They left the club and walked swiftly down the sidewalk, hand in hand. It wasn’t often that they showed affection so publicly, but with two nights until the next full moon and a decent amount of alcohol in his system, Storm didn’t mind the contact at the moment. It felt like an eternity had passed by the time they reached the nearest safe Disapparition point, but once they had he gripped Victoire’s hand firmly in his and closed his eyes, opening them moments later in the sitting room of Shell Cottage. Without hesitation, he drew her close and into a kiss that was more desperate - and far rougher - than his usual mannerly self would allow.
The two of them stumbled around the room - well, he did most of the stumbling - and finally managed to reach the sofa before collapsing onto it in a heap of tangled limbs. His hands roamed eagerly over her dress, admiring the way it clung to her slender frame in all the right places even as he slid his hands around to her back and found the zipper that would remove it. It was truly an indication of his impeccable self-control that they were even honoring this step in preparation for what was to come; clothing was not always removed when they deemed it unnecessary.
But this time, he really wanted to feel Victoire: all of her. He wanted to be wrapped in her invigorating scent, to touch and to taste each and every inch of her exposed flesh and to make her his. Technically, of course, she was already his...but he had never grown tired of claiming her again and again.
He slid the zipper from between her shoulder blades down to the small of her back, after which Victoire lifted her hips to aid him in undressing her. Once the dress was taken care of, she carefully toed off her sandals and began removing her jewelry; she laid the valuables on the end table behind her head with a practiced ease. Perhaps Storm should have seen what was coming next, but then again Victoire frequently managed to surprise him. So when the feisty blonde pulled him into a kiss before pushing him to lie on his back, his eyes widened slightly despite his body’s immediate compliance.
She set to work on his shirt first, slowly undoing each button with nimble fingers and gently caressing his torso as she went. Once she’d reached the waistband of his trousers, she quickly yanked the shirt free and finished it off gracefully, pushing the material down his back until it slid from his arms; he simply tossed it aside; he could always pick it up later. Any thoughts for his clothes were quickly dispelled when Victoire began working on removing his trousers, her hands teasingly pressing in all the right places and making him throw his head back with a throaty groan.
Storm had never understood Victoire’s interest in performing oral sex, but at the moment he wouldn’t have complained if he could. His fingers threaded through her golden locks and gently massaged her scalp, as if encouraging her or at least expressing the intense gratitude he was feeling. He moaned aloud when she rewarded him by redoubling her efforts to drive him mad solely through the use of her mouth. He remained under her spell for several minutes, but eventually the fantasy which had originally driven them from the club resurfaced in his clouded mind and he carefully flipped their positions, hovering above the woman he was certain had to be some sort of goddess come down to tempt him into her arms. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, taking in an aroma that was a heady mix of arousal and Victoire before leaning in to kiss her again. His hands slid down her sides to gently grip her hips and slide her just slightly up the sofa before slipping down to carefully spread her thighs so he could position himself between them. Victoire was one step ahead of him, as usual, and he couldn’t help but groan when her long legs wrapped around his hips and pulled him in against her warmth, grinding their bodies together in a slow and tantalizing manner.
Typically he would have allowed his lover all the time she wanted to tease him into a frenzy, but tonight he was already long past that point and couldn’t hold on any longer. He carefully aligned himself with her and pressed forward at an excruciatingly slow pace into her all too welcoming body. The feeling of Victoire clenching around him only spurred him on, and once she gave him the look that meant he was going to get it if he didn’t get a move on, he set a somewhat rough pace and stuck with it; he buried his face in her neck, kissing the skin there in a way that was so tender it was almost worshipful and breathing in her scent with each deep, shuddering breath he took.
Victoire was just as enthusiastic, legs gripping his hips tight enough to nearly bruise the skin as her fingers simultaneously dug into his back and slid into his hair, tugging him into a fierce kiss as her body writhed beneath his and made every attempt to get even closer. He suppressed a groan at that - he wanted nothing more than to crush her small body to his and have his way with her, but he didn’t want to hurt her. Besides, he had to be extra careful around this time and not let his most primal urges get the best of him. With that single protective thought in mind, he slowed himself down slightly and tried to catch his breath. Unfortunately, Victoire was having none of that; she thrust her hips sharply down against his own, making him release a choked cry of surprise and arousal as her lips crashed once more into his.
“D-Don’t stop,” she panted against his lips, and he smirked slightly at that - now it was her turn to stumble over her words, and it couldn’t be more endearing. Still he obeyed, and slid his hands once again to grasp her hips and lift them, changing the angle ever so slightly and making her cry out suddenly with the newly intensified sensations and the ecstasy they brought. It wasn’t long before she came apart completely, body trembling from head to toe and moans escalating in volume as she rode out her climax. This was how he always imagined Victoire, at least when he was alone and allowing himself a little time for his thoughts to roam unchecked. He imagined her completely helpless, moaning his name and making him blush at the desperation contained in that single syllable as she broke to pieces and was remade in his arms. It was the realization that she trusted him with that side of her - the side that she would never again trust another to see - that made him understand and believe in the depth of her love for him. As he shuddered and cried out her name into the soft but bruised skin of her neck, he closed his eyes and allowed that oft-revisited reality to wash over him alongside the waves of bliss that always accompanied this sort of encounter.
He didn’t listen when she said they could just remain as they were on the sofa until morning. Instead he picked her up and held her in his arms, taking her up the stairs and into the bedroom where he laid her gently down upon the bed before climbing in behind her and wrapping her securely in his arms. And as they drifted off into a blissful sleep, he felt her roll over and curl into his chest, and he smiled.
Perhaps branching out wasn’t so bad, after all.
Fandom: HP post-canon (Mortua Lunae)
Genre: Romance
Pairing: Storm/Victoire
Rating: R
Warnings: Smut, almost PWP, sexual content, alcohol use
Summary: She’d finally managed to drag him to a club, but not being required to dance ended up being more of a torment than a reprieve.
A/N: This is really just intended for the folks at Luna, but anyone can read it; it’s basically word porn after all. Its title comes from the Enrique Iglesias song of the same name, which also appears in this fic’s playlist. It is dedicated to theslashbunny, who owns Storm (I own Victoire). Also, this is my first legitimate attempt at writing something porny that is also heterosexual. Strange, I know. Anyway, here goes!
The room was dark, crowded, and reeked of alcohol and sweat. Music was playing loud enough to give him a headache, but he wouldn’t complain - not tonight. Tonight, he’d agreed to try something new and give Victoire the satisfaction of helping him “branch out”. He had not been thrilled when she told him they were going to one of London’s “hottest new clubs”, but in the end he couldn’t bring himself to refuse her.
Then again, once he’d seen what she was wearing, most of his reluctance was forgotten.
Victoire was stunning: she stood out even in a room full of attractive young people, and Storm felt a swell of pride at the thought that she was his. She took his hand and led him farther into the club, and once they’d arrived at the crowded bar she ordered them each a drink “to take the edge off”. Within minutes Storm was nursing a glass of brandy, while Victoire was sipping enthusiastically on some bizarre, green-colored beverage he didn’t recognize. After she’d finished her drink, the blonde stood on her tiptoes and spoke into his ear so she could be heard over the crowd.
“I’m going to dance, but you don’t have to if you’d rather stay here,” she said in what probably would have been a tender whisper had they not been surrounded by a hundred or more people. Storm just nodded, figuring he could sit and watch her from his position at the bar. She turned and disappeared into the crowd, but he caught an occasional glimpse of her as she made her way through the mass of writhing bodies.
The intricacies of modern Muggle music had always baffled him, as did the current song which seemed to be about a rather lewd person with a learning disability - what kind of person couldn’t pronounce a simple word like “love”? All the same, the patrons of the club appeared to enjoy such music and the entire crowd was gyrating in one big chaotic mess.
Victoire was easy enough to spot: she was close to the middle of the dance floor, hair whipping around like a golden cascade and expression one of sheer joy as she twirled and swayed to the beat. Storm was caught up in his staring and didn’t even notice when his fully drained glass was replaced, simply picking up the cold brandy and allowing it to cool his increasingly warm insides as it slid down his throat.
The next song came on just as the other faded into the background, and several of the people around him moved away from the bar and onto the dance floor while a whole crowd returned to get drinks and rest. He paid them no mind; his eyes were still firmly locked on Victoire, who was moving like it was what she was made to do. She had this undeniable air of gracefulness around her, making even the Muggles surrounding her step back slightly so they could watch. Her hips swayed from side to side as she slowly lowered herself almost to the floor and came back up, muscles in her legs tensing from the effort before relaxing again. Merlin, her legs...
In a more formal environment he would have been worried that his staring was highly inappropriate; after all, if he was to stare at Victoire it should be into her eyes while she spoke to him and nothing more. He most certainly should not be staring at her waist, her hips, her legs as she twisted her body around to the flow of the music. But it was dark in the club, and no one was paying him any attention, so just for a moment he would allow himself to cave to temptation and do as he pleased. If anyone asked him later, he would vehemently deny that he’d been anything but a gentleman.
Victoire must have looked his way and caught him watching, because she fixed him with a look that he recognized as the mischievous one she wore when trying to pull him out of his comfort zone. She slid her hands down to her hips and swayed, dragging them back up her body and throwing them over her head as she twirled around again. How did she ever get so good at this? If he’d tried to dance, he’d either knock someone else over or trip over his own feet; that could only end with Victoire laughing at him or struggling not to, so it was best to avoid it altogether.
”Doctor, Doctor, give me something to make me feel good...”
The song seemed to be about some sort of medical professional - a good fit for Victoire - but one would never have guessed by the way people were dancing. Storm found himself fighting back a blush as he looked on; the majority of people were turning to a partner and beginning a ritual of grinding against one another that was more a mating routine than an actual dance. He tensed upon seeing several pairs of hopeful eyes drift toward Victoire, but if she noticed she gave no indication. Instead she drifted toward him, graceful as ever, and once she was leaning against his side he could tell that she was flushed from dancing and extremely warm.
She smiled up at him, making his stomach twist into knots, and sighed softly as she briefly laid her head over on his shoulder. After ordering another drink from the bartender, she removed herself from his side and carefully situated herself on the bar stool next to his. He smiled at her before going back to his own drink, and for a while they sat in relative silence.
“You aren’t having a good time,” she said finally, and it wasn’t a question. Storm just shook his head and smiled, reaching out and being bold by taking her hand in his as he leaned in to murmur in her ear.
“I’m enjoying watching as much as you’re enjoying dancing,” he said softly and buried his nose in her blonde curls for just a moment to take in her intoxicating scent. He flushed a bright pink upon realizing just how suggestive his comment had sounded...this place lent itself to a wantonness in which he typically did not allow himself to participate. Victoire didn’t seem offended by his words, though, as she was still just smiling up at him with that mischievous glint in her azure eyes. As the song changed yet again, she set down her drink beside his and wandered back to the dance floor, hips already moving to the beat.
Perhaps he could blame some of it on the alcohol - which glass was he on again? - but Storm felt like his insides were twisting in a feeling quite similar to the one he felt each time they kissed. The feeling that made him want to pull her into his arms and kiss her until her knees grew weak, then lay her over the nearest available (comfortable) surface and watch her slowly come undone under his touch. He could feel his face heating up as he thought about it...he’d never allowed himself to be drawn in so far into the fantasy, and now he knew precisely why. Because now, as he watched Victoire writhe about to the music, all he could picture was her writhing beneath him and calling his name. As he listened to the pounding bass in his ears, all he could hear was the way her heartbeat would quicken as he worked to bring her to all new and intoxicating levels of pleasure. As he felt the press of the crowd moving around him to get to the bar, all he could feel was the gentle touch of her heated skin against his own.
This was going to be a problem. He could feel his hands trembling, and his body felt like it was on fire. Just watching Victoire move was becoming a problem, but he couldn’t bring himself to look away. She caught his eye again - how did she know? - and smirked.
That was it.
He stood from his seat at the bar, leaving his empty glass on the top along with what he thought was enough Muggle money for the bill, and made his way into the crowd of people. He towered over a good deal of them, so it was fairly easy to reach Victoire. When he did, he reached down and gently grasped her hand before leaning in to murmur into her ear.
“Let’s go,” he said and gave her a gentle tug, to which she responded with another devilish smirk and a nod. Seriously, this woman was going to be the death of him.
They left the club and walked swiftly down the sidewalk, hand in hand. It wasn’t often that they showed affection so publicly, but with two nights until the next full moon and a decent amount of alcohol in his system, Storm didn’t mind the contact at the moment. It felt like an eternity had passed by the time they reached the nearest safe Disapparition point, but once they had he gripped Victoire’s hand firmly in his and closed his eyes, opening them moments later in the sitting room of Shell Cottage. Without hesitation, he drew her close and into a kiss that was more desperate - and far rougher - than his usual mannerly self would allow.
The two of them stumbled around the room - well, he did most of the stumbling - and finally managed to reach the sofa before collapsing onto it in a heap of tangled limbs. His hands roamed eagerly over her dress, admiring the way it clung to her slender frame in all the right places even as he slid his hands around to her back and found the zipper that would remove it. It was truly an indication of his impeccable self-control that they were even honoring this step in preparation for what was to come; clothing was not always removed when they deemed it unnecessary.
But this time, he really wanted to feel Victoire: all of her. He wanted to be wrapped in her invigorating scent, to touch and to taste each and every inch of her exposed flesh and to make her his. Technically, of course, she was already his...but he had never grown tired of claiming her again and again.
He slid the zipper from between her shoulder blades down to the small of her back, after which Victoire lifted her hips to aid him in undressing her. Once the dress was taken care of, she carefully toed off her sandals and began removing her jewelry; she laid the valuables on the end table behind her head with a practiced ease. Perhaps Storm should have seen what was coming next, but then again Victoire frequently managed to surprise him. So when the feisty blonde pulled him into a kiss before pushing him to lie on his back, his eyes widened slightly despite his body’s immediate compliance.
She set to work on his shirt first, slowly undoing each button with nimble fingers and gently caressing his torso as she went. Once she’d reached the waistband of his trousers, she quickly yanked the shirt free and finished it off gracefully, pushing the material down his back until it slid from his arms; he simply tossed it aside; he could always pick it up later. Any thoughts for his clothes were quickly dispelled when Victoire began working on removing his trousers, her hands teasingly pressing in all the right places and making him throw his head back with a throaty groan.
Storm had never understood Victoire’s interest in performing oral sex, but at the moment he wouldn’t have complained if he could. His fingers threaded through her golden locks and gently massaged her scalp, as if encouraging her or at least expressing the intense gratitude he was feeling. He moaned aloud when she rewarded him by redoubling her efforts to drive him mad solely through the use of her mouth. He remained under her spell for several minutes, but eventually the fantasy which had originally driven them from the club resurfaced in his clouded mind and he carefully flipped their positions, hovering above the woman he was certain had to be some sort of goddess come down to tempt him into her arms. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, taking in an aroma that was a heady mix of arousal and Victoire before leaning in to kiss her again. His hands slid down her sides to gently grip her hips and slide her just slightly up the sofa before slipping down to carefully spread her thighs so he could position himself between them. Victoire was one step ahead of him, as usual, and he couldn’t help but groan when her long legs wrapped around his hips and pulled him in against her warmth, grinding their bodies together in a slow and tantalizing manner.
Typically he would have allowed his lover all the time she wanted to tease him into a frenzy, but tonight he was already long past that point and couldn’t hold on any longer. He carefully aligned himself with her and pressed forward at an excruciatingly slow pace into her all too welcoming body. The feeling of Victoire clenching around him only spurred him on, and once she gave him the look that meant he was going to get it if he didn’t get a move on, he set a somewhat rough pace and stuck with it; he buried his face in her neck, kissing the skin there in a way that was so tender it was almost worshipful and breathing in her scent with each deep, shuddering breath he took.
Victoire was just as enthusiastic, legs gripping his hips tight enough to nearly bruise the skin as her fingers simultaneously dug into his back and slid into his hair, tugging him into a fierce kiss as her body writhed beneath his and made every attempt to get even closer. He suppressed a groan at that - he wanted nothing more than to crush her small body to his and have his way with her, but he didn’t want to hurt her. Besides, he had to be extra careful around this time and not let his most primal urges get the best of him. With that single protective thought in mind, he slowed himself down slightly and tried to catch his breath. Unfortunately, Victoire was having none of that; she thrust her hips sharply down against his own, making him release a choked cry of surprise and arousal as her lips crashed once more into his.
“D-Don’t stop,” she panted against his lips, and he smirked slightly at that - now it was her turn to stumble over her words, and it couldn’t be more endearing. Still he obeyed, and slid his hands once again to grasp her hips and lift them, changing the angle ever so slightly and making her cry out suddenly with the newly intensified sensations and the ecstasy they brought. It wasn’t long before she came apart completely, body trembling from head to toe and moans escalating in volume as she rode out her climax. This was how he always imagined Victoire, at least when he was alone and allowing himself a little time for his thoughts to roam unchecked. He imagined her completely helpless, moaning his name and making him blush at the desperation contained in that single syllable as she broke to pieces and was remade in his arms. It was the realization that she trusted him with that side of her - the side that she would never again trust another to see - that made him understand and believe in the depth of her love for him. As he shuddered and cried out her name into the soft but bruised skin of her neck, he closed his eyes and allowed that oft-revisited reality to wash over him alongside the waves of bliss that always accompanied this sort of encounter.
He didn’t listen when she said they could just remain as they were on the sofa until morning. Instead he picked her up and held her in his arms, taking her up the stairs and into the bedroom where he laid her gently down upon the bed before climbing in behind her and wrapping her securely in his arms. And as they drifted off into a blissful sleep, he felt her roll over and curl into his chest, and he smiled.
Perhaps branching out wasn’t so bad, after all.