Leigh!fic- Short Skirt/Long Jacket (1/1)- Bill Weasley/Fleur Delacour
Title: Short Skirt/Long Jacket (1/1)
Author: Leigh, aka leigh_adams
Characters: Bill Weasley/Fleur Delacour
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 386
Summary: He never should have let her out of the house looking like that.
Author's Notes: Written for this week's offering at hp_humpdrabbles. The prompt used was Short Skirt/Long Jacket by Cake.
There was no way in hell he should've let her out of the house looking like that. Her silvery blonde hair fell down her back, painstakingly fixed so that it looked "artfully tousled."
Of course, Bill could think of more pleasurable ways to achieve that look.
When she laughed, it was as if the entire room stopped and stared. It was part of her veela charm, sure, but there was something more. It was as if everything Fleur did, every word she said, was scored with an underlying meaning. I know you want me.
And want her he did.
When she moved across the room to talk to Ginny and Harry, his gaze was drawn to her tight arse, emphasized by the borderline-indecent short skirt she'd hidden beneath her cloak. His mind's eye recalled how it looked best-- bare, thrust into the air and waiting for him to take her.
He growled a little when he saw one of the numerous Weasley cousins ogling her chest. Merlin, she was his wife and that little snot was no older than Hogwarts age. He had no right to stare at Bill's wife as if she were fair game.
Though he couldn't blame the pipsqueak. Fleur's chest was one of her favorite body parts. He loved the way her breasts felt in his hands; soft, smooth skin catching against the rough callouses of his palm.
So caught up in his thoughts was he that he didn't even notice when the object of his admiration was standing in front of him. "Bill!"
He started and glanced down at her, lips curling in an unabashed smirk when he caught sight of his peevish wife. "What was that love? I didn't catch it."
"Carrément," she replied with a little wave of her hand. "Your 'ead is in ze clouds, chéri. What were you thinking about?"
"You." Leaning low, he grasped her by the waist and pulled her close, ducking his head down to press his lips against her ear. "And how I think we should excuse ourselves for a few moments."
"Ah bon? I think zat you want an excuse to ravish me, mon amour."
Bill was already dragging them out of the room and into the corridor. "You're sharp as a tack, love."
"Mmm, oui. And you like eet."
Author: Leigh, aka leigh_adams
Characters: Bill Weasley/Fleur Delacour
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 386
Summary: He never should have let her out of the house looking like that.
Author's Notes: Written for this week's offering at hp_humpdrabbles. The prompt used was Short Skirt/Long Jacket by Cake.
There was no way in hell he should've let her out of the house looking like that. Her silvery blonde hair fell down her back, painstakingly fixed so that it looked "artfully tousled."
Of course, Bill could think of more pleasurable ways to achieve that look.
When she laughed, it was as if the entire room stopped and stared. It was part of her veela charm, sure, but there was something more. It was as if everything Fleur did, every word she said, was scored with an underlying meaning. I know you want me.
And want her he did.
When she moved across the room to talk to Ginny and Harry, his gaze was drawn to her tight arse, emphasized by the borderline-indecent short skirt she'd hidden beneath her cloak. His mind's eye recalled how it looked best-- bare, thrust into the air and waiting for him to take her.
He growled a little when he saw one of the numerous Weasley cousins ogling her chest. Merlin, she was his wife and that little snot was no older than Hogwarts age. He had no right to stare at Bill's wife as if she were fair game.
Though he couldn't blame the pipsqueak. Fleur's chest was one of her favorite body parts. He loved the way her breasts felt in his hands; soft, smooth skin catching against the rough callouses of his palm.
So caught up in his thoughts was he that he didn't even notice when the object of his admiration was standing in front of him. "Bill!"
He started and glanced down at her, lips curling in an unabashed smirk when he caught sight of his peevish wife. "What was that love? I didn't catch it."
"Carrément," she replied with a little wave of her hand. "Your 'ead is in ze clouds, chéri. What were you thinking about?"
"You." Leaning low, he grasped her by the waist and pulled her close, ducking his head down to press his lips against her ear. "And how I think we should excuse ourselves for a few moments."
"Ah bon? I think zat you want an excuse to ravish me, mon amour."
Bill was already dragging them out of the room and into the corridor. "You're sharp as a tack, love."
"Mmm, oui. And you like eet."