Leigh!fic | A Certain Type of Man (1/1) | Charlie Weasley/Alicia Spinnet
Title: A Certain Type of Man (1/1)
Author: Leigh, aka leigh_adams
Characters: Charlie Weasley/Alicia Spinnet
Rating: R
Word Count: 500
Summary: He was, for lack of a better title, a WAG. A Pitch Bitch. And as such, he had been instantly initiated into that sacred -- and, save for him, completely female -- group.
Author’s Notes: Written for hp_humpdrabbles as well as a birthday gift for ragdoll. Hope this made your day bright, sweetheart! Happy birthday!
Charlie Weasley was not one of those "metrosexual" type blokes. He was a man who liked his ale stout, his steak cooked rare, and his women curvy and willing. He liked a bit of rough and tumble; after all, ten years on a dragon reserve in Romania wasn't for the weak at heart.
All in all, Charlie was not the sort of man one could mistake for anything but red blooded, grade-A masculinity.
Hands gripped at her firm thighs, pulling her up against him so those long legs he loved could wrap around his waist. Pushing her back against the wall, he growled when she gasped in want -- it would leave marks. Good. The idea of marks on her body from this encounter filled him with a dark sense of satisfaction.
Her hands ripped at his shirt, yanking it over his head. "Off, Weasley."
"Whatever you say, poppet."
Yet... even the most brawny of men did things for their woman. They did things like transfer from Romania to the preserve in Wales -- which was far too close to Molly Weasley for his taste. They did home improvement projects; painted walls, hung pictures, and caulked windows in their girlfriend's ramshackle Kenmare cottage.
But that wasn't the worst of it. Not by far.
"Eager tonight, aren't we, Spinnet?" His lips curled against hers in a smug smirk. It wasn't an easy thing to be shagging a female professional Quidditch player -- something about the inequality of the sport made them more likely to be ball busters -- but he thought he handled it well enough. It was too easy to fan the flame, though.
"Oh, bugger off," she growled. Her nails gripped his back, making marks of her own.
Charlie snickered as his hands pushed her leather trousers down around her thighs, exposing her sex to his touch. "Would rather it was you, love."
No, the worst part was the other side of shagging a Quidditch player. The part no one talked about.
It was compounded, he supposed, by the fact that Alicia was the only female on the Kestrals' roster. Why couldn't she have followed Angelina to Holyhead? At least there would have been other blokes to commiserate with. But no, of course not. He had to suffer on his own.
He was, for lack of a better title, a WAG. A Pitch Bitch. And as such, he had been instantly initiated into that sacred -- and, save for him, completely female -- group. That meant baby showers and afternoon tea with the other significant others. It meant matching jumpers and admiring the next generation of Kenmare Kestrals.
Was it worth it?
"Good gods, if you don't fuck me right now Charlie Weasley, I swear I'll --" Alicia's diatribe fell silent, replaced by a long, keening moan as Charlie sank into her waiting sex.
He took a firm grip on her hip, setting a punishing rhythm as his lips found hers.
It was more than worth it.
Author: Leigh, aka leigh_adams
Characters: Charlie Weasley/Alicia Spinnet
Rating: R
Word Count: 500
Summary: He was, for lack of a better title, a WAG. A Pitch Bitch. And as such, he had been instantly initiated into that sacred -- and, save for him, completely female -- group.
Author’s Notes: Written for hp_humpdrabbles as well as a birthday gift for ragdoll. Hope this made your day bright, sweetheart! Happy birthday!
Charlie Weasley was not one of those "metrosexual" type blokes. He was a man who liked his ale stout, his steak cooked rare, and his women curvy and willing. He liked a bit of rough and tumble; after all, ten years on a dragon reserve in Romania wasn't for the weak at heart.
All in all, Charlie was not the sort of man one could mistake for anything but red blooded, grade-A masculinity.
Hands gripped at her firm thighs, pulling her up against him so those long legs he loved could wrap around his waist. Pushing her back against the wall, he growled when she gasped in want -- it would leave marks. Good. The idea of marks on her body from this encounter filled him with a dark sense of satisfaction.
Her hands ripped at his shirt, yanking it over his head. "Off, Weasley."
"Whatever you say, poppet."
Yet... even the most brawny of men did things for their woman. They did things like transfer from Romania to the preserve in Wales -- which was far too close to Molly Weasley for his taste. They did home improvement projects; painted walls, hung pictures, and caulked windows in their girlfriend's ramshackle Kenmare cottage.
But that wasn't the worst of it. Not by far.
"Eager tonight, aren't we, Spinnet?" His lips curled against hers in a smug smirk. It wasn't an easy thing to be shagging a female professional Quidditch player -- something about the inequality of the sport made them more likely to be ball busters -- but he thought he handled it well enough. It was too easy to fan the flame, though.
"Oh, bugger off," she growled. Her nails gripped his back, making marks of her own.
Charlie snickered as his hands pushed her leather trousers down around her thighs, exposing her sex to his touch. "Would rather it was you, love."
No, the worst part was the other side of shagging a Quidditch player. The part no one talked about.
It was compounded, he supposed, by the fact that Alicia was the only female on the Kestrals' roster. Why couldn't she have followed Angelina to Holyhead? At least there would have been other blokes to commiserate with. But no, of course not. He had to suffer on his own.
He was, for lack of a better title, a WAG. A Pitch Bitch. And as such, he had been instantly initiated into that sacred -- and, save for him, completely female -- group. That meant baby showers and afternoon tea with the other significant others. It meant matching jumpers and admiring the next generation of Kenmare Kestrals.
Was it worth it?
"Good gods, if you don't fuck me right now Charlie Weasley, I swear I'll --" Alicia's diatribe fell silent, replaced by a long, keening moan as Charlie sank into her waiting sex.
He took a firm grip on her hip, setting a punishing rhythm as his lips found hers.
It was more than worth it.