Leigh!fic | Sex, Interrupted (1/1) | Bill Weasley/Fleur Delacour
Title: Sex, Interrupted (1/1)
Author: Leigh, aka leigh_adams
Characters: Bill Weasley/Fleur Delacour
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1,146
Summary: Victoire had a sixth sense for knowing when her parents were doing things. Six weeks with no sex -- it was driving Bill crazy.
Author’s Notes: Written for mollywheezy as part of my Spring 2013 Drabble Meme. Molly, I tweaked your request just a tiny bit, so I hope you don't mind! (I also went quite a bit over my word count, but I couldn't bear to cut it down). These two are my favorite canon couple, and I always enjoy delving into their relationship. For the bits of French text scattered throughout, hover your cursor over the italicized phrase to see the English translation. Hope you enjoy!
Bill Weasley was a man used to enduring hardships. Working in Egypt for five years had been strenuous in many different ways. No women on their dig sites or at the office, the harsh sunlight was murder on his pale skin, and there was absolutely no proper English food to be found in the whole bloody country.
He'd dealt with changes in his mind and body after being attacked by Greyback. He'd suffered alongside his family when Fred had been killed. And he'd held his sobbing wife in his arms after they'd learned of her miscarriage.
To say that Bill was a 'soft' man was a flat out lie. But to say he wasn't living an easier life than he once had... well, that would have also been a lie.
There was still a gaping hole in their family where Fred had once been. George's smile was never as bright as it once was. Percy was occasionally a bit awkward around them, as if unsure of where his place was after everything was said and done. But for the most part, the Weasleys were healing and moving forward.
And Bill had his little girl, Victoire. At sixteen months, she was the spitting image of her Delacour heritage; all bright blue eyes, blonde ringlets, and giggling smiles. She was also getting into everything -- proving she was just as much Weasley as she was Delacour.
He loved his daughter and his wife more than life itself. He'd have happily killed for either one of them.
At the same time, though... he was certain Victoire had some sort of sixth sense of when her Papa and Maman were doing things.
It wasn't a hardship by traditional definitions, he supposed. But it had been six bloody weeks since he'd last had a shag with his lovely wife. Bill was about to go mad with wanting -- wanking off in the shower was not nearly as pleasurable as losing himself in Fleur's naked and pliable body.
Tonight, things would be different. He'd planned it well. Victoire had been packaged off to France for the next three days, and neither Bill nor Fleur had any intention of leaving Shell Cottage until they'd rechristened every single flat surface in their little house -- including the back yard.
His lips curled in satisfaction as he worked a hand between their bodies, cupping Fleur's full breast as he ducked his head to take the tip between his lips. His wife mewled and panted beneath him, and were Bill a lesser man, he might have come in his pants before he had a chance to bury himself in her waiting sex. He slipped his other hand beneath her knickers and cupped her heat, growling when one finger teased her slick opening.
"Mon dieu." Fleur arched her back and slid her fingers into his long hair, nails scraping at his scalp. "Do not stop, Bill, do not stop."
"Don't intend to," his voice rumbled along her skin as he trailed kisses down her long torso, leaving off her breasts to work her knickers down her long legs. He felt himself grow even harder at the sight of her naked and wanton beneath him, blue eyes dark and hooded with desire. With invitation.
Merlin, he was a lucky man.
He had just leaned in to press his tongue against her swollen nub when he heard a distinctly alarming sound: the loud 'crack!' of Apparation.
And then, just as distinctly, an all-too-familiar voice -- one that was not his wife -- call his name.
No. No, no, no, no, no. "This isn't happening."
Fleur's eyes narrowed and met his gaze. "Do not answer," she hissed. "We are not 'ere."
"If I don't answer her, she'll come back here looking for us," he said, raising his voice to call out, "Just a minute!" Bill was already moving off the bed and towards the door, trying not to cringe at the heated glare emanating from his wife. "I'll be right back, love, I promise."
Ignoring her irate muttering, Bill grabbed a nearby pair of denims and jerked them on, hurriedly doing the fly and buttons as he slipped out of the bedroom and moved towards the living room -- where one Molly Weasley was waiting.
"Mum," he said, his tone falsely bright, "what are you doing here?"
"Oh there you are, dear. You know, you shouldn't leave a fire going if you aren't going to sit here and tend it. It isn't safe." She stopped for a moment and blinked. "Where on earth is your shirt?"
"Um, Fleur's doing the laundry," he lied. He didn't like lying to his mum, but he also didn't like the efficiency with which his mum's voice could kill an erection. Though that might have been for the best, given the present circumstances.
Molly smiled at the mention of his wife being domestic -- something she was not very often. "Good on her, she's turned into quite the proper wife."
Bill hoped Fleur wasn't eavesdropping.
"Anyway, I was just stopping by to steal Victoire for the evening. Give you some time to rest," his mum said, beaming at the thought of spending time with her first grandchild. "You don't mind, do you?"
"She's actually with Jean-Michel and Apolline for a few days, Mum. Maybe we can bring her 'round sometime next week?"
"Oh, anytime. Well, if you and Fleur aren't busy, why don't you come over to the house for dinner tonight? Your father would enjoy that, and it would be so nice..."
Her voice trailed off, eyes going wide and fixed at a spot behind Bill. He didn't want to know what had stopped her mid-sentence, surely. It was only going to cause a headache. That was absolute.
Still, he was a glutton for punishment. Bill visibly swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing as he slowly turned his head to look behind him.
In the doorway stood Fleur, her blonde hair tousled and one bed sheet artfully draped around her naked body. If he were a betting man, he'd have wagered that she'd arranged it so that the sheet rode high on her hip, exposing one long length of leg just so.
Merlin save him.
"Molly," she greeted cordially, giving a smile that did not quite meet her eyes.
"Fleur," the older woman replied with a smile of her own, one that was not quite as bright as it had been moments earlier. "I hope I'm not interrupting the laundry."
"Oh, we were not doing ze laundry. We were 'aving sex," the blonde half-Veela answered in a matter-of-fact tone. "Eet 'as been a while, you see, and it is something we must do eef you are ever to 'ave more grandchildren from us, non?"
His mother nodded. "Quite right, quite right." She fixed her eldest child with a significant look. "Merlin, Bill, have we not taught you better? If you're going to be... indisposed, lock down your wards."
"Oui, Bill, enfermez les gardes," Fleur added dryly.
"Well. I'll just be on my way then. Pop round this weekend for tea, sweetheart, and bring Victoire with you." Gathering her oversize purse to her chest, Molly apparated out without another word.
"Bye, Mum." Bill sighed at the empty space where his mother had just stood. Crossing his arms, he turned to face his wife. For her part, Fleur merely arched one imperious blonde brow at the look he directed her way. "Was that really necessary?"
"Oui. It was. I 'ave not had an orgasm that was not by my own 'and in over six weeks, chéri. I do not care eef the Minister of Magic 'imself walks through that door, we will ignore 'im until you make me come."
"I... well... Fleur...I."
Her lips curled at his stuttering. She let go her hold on the sheet, and the soft cloth dropped to pool around her feet, leaving his wife gloriously naked as she'd been when he'd left her in their bed.
"Now. Where were we?"
Author: Leigh, aka leigh_adams
Characters: Bill Weasley/Fleur Delacour
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1,146
Summary: Victoire had a sixth sense for knowing when her parents were doing things. Six weeks with no sex -- it was driving Bill crazy.
Author’s Notes: Written for mollywheezy as part of my Spring 2013 Drabble Meme. Molly, I tweaked your request just a tiny bit, so I hope you don't mind! (I also went quite a bit over my word count, but I couldn't bear to cut it down). These two are my favorite canon couple, and I always enjoy delving into their relationship. For the bits of French text scattered throughout, hover your cursor over the italicized phrase to see the English translation. Hope you enjoy!
Bill Weasley was a man used to enduring hardships. Working in Egypt for five years had been strenuous in many different ways. No women on their dig sites or at the office, the harsh sunlight was murder on his pale skin, and there was absolutely no proper English food to be found in the whole bloody country.
He'd dealt with changes in his mind and body after being attacked by Greyback. He'd suffered alongside his family when Fred had been killed. And he'd held his sobbing wife in his arms after they'd learned of her miscarriage.
To say that Bill was a 'soft' man was a flat out lie. But to say he wasn't living an easier life than he once had... well, that would have also been a lie.
There was still a gaping hole in their family where Fred had once been. George's smile was never as bright as it once was. Percy was occasionally a bit awkward around them, as if unsure of where his place was after everything was said and done. But for the most part, the Weasleys were healing and moving forward.
And Bill had his little girl, Victoire. At sixteen months, she was the spitting image of her Delacour heritage; all bright blue eyes, blonde ringlets, and giggling smiles. She was also getting into everything -- proving she was just as much Weasley as she was Delacour.
He loved his daughter and his wife more than life itself. He'd have happily killed for either one of them.
At the same time, though... he was certain Victoire had some sort of sixth sense of when her Papa and Maman were doing things.
It wasn't a hardship by traditional definitions, he supposed. But it had been six bloody weeks since he'd last had a shag with his lovely wife. Bill was about to go mad with wanting -- wanking off in the shower was not nearly as pleasurable as losing himself in Fleur's naked and pliable body.
Tonight, things would be different. He'd planned it well. Victoire had been packaged off to France for the next three days, and neither Bill nor Fleur had any intention of leaving Shell Cottage until they'd rechristened every single flat surface in their little house -- including the back yard.
His lips curled in satisfaction as he worked a hand between their bodies, cupping Fleur's full breast as he ducked his head to take the tip between his lips. His wife mewled and panted beneath him, and were Bill a lesser man, he might have come in his pants before he had a chance to bury himself in her waiting sex. He slipped his other hand beneath her knickers and cupped her heat, growling when one finger teased her slick opening.
"Mon dieu." Fleur arched her back and slid her fingers into his long hair, nails scraping at his scalp. "Do not stop, Bill, do not stop."
"Don't intend to," his voice rumbled along her skin as he trailed kisses down her long torso, leaving off her breasts to work her knickers down her long legs. He felt himself grow even harder at the sight of her naked and wanton beneath him, blue eyes dark and hooded with desire. With invitation.
Merlin, he was a lucky man.
He had just leaned in to press his tongue against her swollen nub when he heard a distinctly alarming sound: the loud 'crack!' of Apparation.
And then, just as distinctly, an all-too-familiar voice -- one that was not his wife -- call his name.
No. No, no, no, no, no. "This isn't happening."
Fleur's eyes narrowed and met his gaze. "Do not answer," she hissed. "We are not 'ere."
"If I don't answer her, she'll come back here looking for us," he said, raising his voice to call out, "Just a minute!" Bill was already moving off the bed and towards the door, trying not to cringe at the heated glare emanating from his wife. "I'll be right back, love, I promise."
Ignoring her irate muttering, Bill grabbed a nearby pair of denims and jerked them on, hurriedly doing the fly and buttons as he slipped out of the bedroom and moved towards the living room -- where one Molly Weasley was waiting.
"Mum," he said, his tone falsely bright, "what are you doing here?"
"Oh there you are, dear. You know, you shouldn't leave a fire going if you aren't going to sit here and tend it. It isn't safe." She stopped for a moment and blinked. "Where on earth is your shirt?"
"Um, Fleur's doing the laundry," he lied. He didn't like lying to his mum, but he also didn't like the efficiency with which his mum's voice could kill an erection. Though that might have been for the best, given the present circumstances.
Molly smiled at the mention of his wife being domestic -- something she was not very often. "Good on her, she's turned into quite the proper wife."
Bill hoped Fleur wasn't eavesdropping.
"Anyway, I was just stopping by to steal Victoire for the evening. Give you some time to rest," his mum said, beaming at the thought of spending time with her first grandchild. "You don't mind, do you?"
"She's actually with Jean-Michel and Apolline for a few days, Mum. Maybe we can bring her 'round sometime next week?"
"Oh, anytime. Well, if you and Fleur aren't busy, why don't you come over to the house for dinner tonight? Your father would enjoy that, and it would be so nice..."
Her voice trailed off, eyes going wide and fixed at a spot behind Bill. He didn't want to know what had stopped her mid-sentence, surely. It was only going to cause a headache. That was absolute.
Still, he was a glutton for punishment. Bill visibly swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing as he slowly turned his head to look behind him.
In the doorway stood Fleur, her blonde hair tousled and one bed sheet artfully draped around her naked body. If he were a betting man, he'd have wagered that she'd arranged it so that the sheet rode high on her hip, exposing one long length of leg just so.
Merlin save him.
"Molly," she greeted cordially, giving a smile that did not quite meet her eyes.
"Fleur," the older woman replied with a smile of her own, one that was not quite as bright as it had been moments earlier. "I hope I'm not interrupting the laundry."
"Oh, we were not doing ze laundry. We were 'aving sex," the blonde half-Veela answered in a matter-of-fact tone. "Eet 'as been a while, you see, and it is something we must do eef you are ever to 'ave more grandchildren from us, non?"
His mother nodded. "Quite right, quite right." She fixed her eldest child with a significant look. "Merlin, Bill, have we not taught you better? If you're going to be... indisposed, lock down your wards."
"Oui, Bill, enfermez les gardes," Fleur added dryly.
"Well. I'll just be on my way then. Pop round this weekend for tea, sweetheart, and bring Victoire with you." Gathering her oversize purse to her chest, Molly apparated out without another word.
"Bye, Mum." Bill sighed at the empty space where his mother had just stood. Crossing his arms, he turned to face his wife. For her part, Fleur merely arched one imperious blonde brow at the look he directed her way. "Was that really necessary?"
"Oui. It was. I 'ave not had an orgasm that was not by my own 'and in over six weeks, chéri. I do not care eef the Minister of Magic 'imself walks through that door, we will ignore 'im until you make me come."
"I... well... Fleur...I."
Her lips curled at his stuttering. She let go her hold on the sheet, and the soft cloth dropped to pool around her feet, leaving his wife gloriously naked as she'd been when he'd left her in their bed.
"Now. Where were we?"