Leigh!fic | Filthy/Gorgeous (1/1) | Ron Weasley/Gabrielle Delacour
Title: Filthy/Gorgeous (1/1)
Author: Leigh, aka leigh_adams
Characters: Ron Weasley/Gabrielle Delacour
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 500
Summary: "I knew zere was a reason zat I wanted you." Ron and Gabrielle continue their affair.
Author’s Notes: Written for this week's posting at hp_humpdrabbles as a special favor to some friends. This is the (smutty) sequel to my previous piece, Between Two Lungs.
"I knew zere was a reason zat I wanted you."
Their entwined bodies fell back onto the mattress, the worn springs groaning under their combined weight. Already, Gabrielle’s eager fingers were tugging his shirt over his head, and he pulled back from their kiss just long enough to pull it off and toss it away. Gabrielle was could be haughty and snobbish and a right pill, but she was gorgeous. Ron couldn’t help but want her.
Reaching for her, his hands slid up her long, toned legs until they disappeared under her skirt. Inch by inch, they travelled higher and higher until... they did not meet the expected barrier. No knickers.
”Merlin, Gabrielle,” he groaned, pressing his lips to her neck as his fingers pressed into her wet heat. She would be the death of him, and she bloody knew it.
The blonde arched into him, wrapping one leg around his waist as her legs opened for him. Perfectly manicured nails clutched at his back, leaving little crescent moon impressions in his skin. “Mon dieu,” she moaned, rolling her hips against his, “N’arrêtte pas.”
With an efficiency only gained through years of practice, Ron’s free hand flicked open the buttons running down her front, one by one. With each inch of skin barred to his wandering eyes, the tempo of his fingers increased until he felt her tense beneath him, breath catching. That was his cue to pull away.
Irritated blue eyes flashed up at him, her breathing heavy as she hissed, “Salaud.”
Ron couldn’t but chuckle as he pushed her dress open, exposing the paleness of her torso to his wandering hands. “That’s harsh, Gabrielle,” he chided. With one flick of his finger, her front-clasped bra fell open, petite breasts bouncing free from their restraints. If possible, he felt himself grow even harder at the sight.
“Eeet weel not be ‘arsh eef you would just fuck me, Ron,” she murmured, rolling her hips against his enticingly. Her lips curled when he growled, the sound rumbling in his chest as she pressed herself against his erection.
Fuck. Pulling away, his movements were hurried as he ripped open his belt and trousers, pushing them down his hips. He braced himself on his forearms as he fitted himself between her legs, pushing into her eager body with a loud groan, one she answered with equal fervor.
They settled quickly into the familiar rhythm, bodies moving together. Skin slapped against skin, breathy moans and strangled curses punctuating their coitus. Nails scoured down his back, and his teeth raked against her neck as they moved higher and higher on a spiral of pleasure. His hips tightened, and as he felt her body constrict around him in climax, he let himself spill over the edge.
Gabrielle was a perfect mess. He was a perfect mess. But they were the perfect amount of mess for each other.
Author: Leigh, aka leigh_adams
Characters: Ron Weasley/Gabrielle Delacour
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 500
Summary: "I knew zere was a reason zat I wanted you." Ron and Gabrielle continue their affair.
Author’s Notes: Written for this week's posting at hp_humpdrabbles as a special favor to some friends. This is the (smutty) sequel to my previous piece, Between Two Lungs.
"I knew zere was a reason zat I wanted you."
Their entwined bodies fell back onto the mattress, the worn springs groaning under their combined weight. Already, Gabrielle’s eager fingers were tugging his shirt over his head, and he pulled back from their kiss just long enough to pull it off and toss it away. Gabrielle was could be haughty and snobbish and a right pill, but she was gorgeous. Ron couldn’t help but want her.
Reaching for her, his hands slid up her long, toned legs until they disappeared under her skirt. Inch by inch, they travelled higher and higher until... they did not meet the expected barrier. No knickers.
”Merlin, Gabrielle,” he groaned, pressing his lips to her neck as his fingers pressed into her wet heat. She would be the death of him, and she bloody knew it.
The blonde arched into him, wrapping one leg around his waist as her legs opened for him. Perfectly manicured nails clutched at his back, leaving little crescent moon impressions in his skin. “Mon dieu,” she moaned, rolling her hips against his, “N’arrêtte pas.”
With an efficiency only gained through years of practice, Ron’s free hand flicked open the buttons running down her front, one by one. With each inch of skin barred to his wandering eyes, the tempo of his fingers increased until he felt her tense beneath him, breath catching. That was his cue to pull away.
Irritated blue eyes flashed up at him, her breathing heavy as she hissed, “Salaud.”
Ron couldn’t but chuckle as he pushed her dress open, exposing the paleness of her torso to his wandering hands. “That’s harsh, Gabrielle,” he chided. With one flick of his finger, her front-clasped bra fell open, petite breasts bouncing free from their restraints. If possible, he felt himself grow even harder at the sight.
“Eeet weel not be ‘arsh eef you would just fuck me, Ron,” she murmured, rolling her hips against his enticingly. Her lips curled when he growled, the sound rumbling in his chest as she pressed herself against his erection.
Fuck. Pulling away, his movements were hurried as he ripped open his belt and trousers, pushing them down his hips. He braced himself on his forearms as he fitted himself between her legs, pushing into her eager body with a loud groan, one she answered with equal fervor.
They settled quickly into the familiar rhythm, bodies moving together. Skin slapped against skin, breathy moans and strangled curses punctuating their coitus. Nails scoured down his back, and his teeth raked against her neck as they moved higher and higher on a spiral of pleasure. His hips tightened, and as he felt her body constrict around him in climax, he let himself spill over the edge.
Gabrielle was a perfect mess. He was a perfect mess. But they were the perfect amount of mess for each other.