Leigh!fic | Creature of Habit (1/1) | Charlie Weasley/Pansy Parkinson
Title: Creature of Habit (1/1)
Author: Leigh, aka leigh_adams
Characters: Charlie Weasley/Pansy Parkinson
Rating: R
Word Count: ~500
Summary: Pansy breaks his pattern.
Author’s Notes: Written as a gift for luvscharlie as part of Humpathon 2015 at hp_humpdrabbles -- the prompt was "You're a real bitch... I kind of like it."
On a typical Friday night, Charlie Weasley had a pattern. Finish his shift, head down to the local bar with a few mates, drink until he couldn't feel his nose, then sleep it off until Saturday afternoon. Friday nights were for letting off some steam with the boys. Saturday nights were for finding a pretty lass, but Friday nights were sacred. It was a tradition started fresh from Hogwarts with Bill, and it had been theirs -- until his dolt of a brother had tricked his pretty Veela into marrying him (Charlie still wasn't certain how he'd managed that).
He didn't vary from that routine. And he had no intentions of starting now -- until he walked into the bar and saw a familiar face.
Pansy Parkinson was the last person he'd expect to see in a rural Romanian village. Granted, he only knew her face from the papers back home, but the pureblooded Slytherin didn't strike him as the type to bandy about the countryside. Yet there she was, tossing back shots of țuică and smiling as she entertained a horde of admirers.
Granted, she was the only woman at the bar. The options were somewhat limited.
She wasn't traditionally pretty. Her hair was straight and black, and she did have a bit of a pug nose. But alcohol didn't notice that. It noticed her low cut blouse, and the way her breasts pressed against the thin material. It noticed the subtle curve of her arse and the way her denims hugged her legs.
Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was because his tired brain wanted to speak English to something that spoke back (the dragons weren't exactly fascinating conversationalists). Whatever it was was enough to convince him to change his routine.
And that was how he found himself in the bar's storeroom, surrounded by dusty bottles of homemade alcohol, with Pansy Parkinson's naked breast between his lips.
His other hand was rough as it fondled her arse, and he gave the round flesh a bit of a slap as her hands worked at his belt.
"Don't do that," she growled, her voice slurred with drink. His belt undone, her hand slid inside his trousers to find his aching erection. She grasped him in his hand and squeezed, and Charlie nearly saw stars. Groaning, his teeth nipped at her nipple in punishment.
"You know," he rasped against her chest, " you're a bit of a bitch." Pulling back, his hands found her hips and he spun her around. Pulling her arse back against his hips, he pushed her against the wall, lips curling when she gasped.
His hands jerked at her denims, fingers curling in the wisp of silk on the way down until her arse was bare. Sliding one hand around to her front, his fingers sought out that wetness waiting between her legs. He rubbed smooth circles around her swollen nub, and then dipped a finger into her sex.
It was too much for him to resist. Withdrawing her hand, he used one foot to kick her feet further apart. With a thrust of his hips, he groaned as he took her from behind. His head leaned forward to rake his teeth over her neck, and his lips found her ear.
"But I kind of like it."
Author: Leigh, aka leigh_adams
Characters: Charlie Weasley/Pansy Parkinson
Rating: R
Word Count: ~500
Summary: Pansy breaks his pattern.
Author’s Notes: Written as a gift for luvscharlie as part of Humpathon 2015 at hp_humpdrabbles -- the prompt was "You're a real bitch... I kind of like it."
On a typical Friday night, Charlie Weasley had a pattern. Finish his shift, head down to the local bar with a few mates, drink until he couldn't feel his nose, then sleep it off until Saturday afternoon. Friday nights were for letting off some steam with the boys. Saturday nights were for finding a pretty lass, but Friday nights were sacred. It was a tradition started fresh from Hogwarts with Bill, and it had been theirs -- until his dolt of a brother had tricked his pretty Veela into marrying him (Charlie still wasn't certain how he'd managed that).
He didn't vary from that routine. And he had no intentions of starting now -- until he walked into the bar and saw a familiar face.
Pansy Parkinson was the last person he'd expect to see in a rural Romanian village. Granted, he only knew her face from the papers back home, but the pureblooded Slytherin didn't strike him as the type to bandy about the countryside. Yet there she was, tossing back shots of țuică and smiling as she entertained a horde of admirers.
Granted, she was the only woman at the bar. The options were somewhat limited.
She wasn't traditionally pretty. Her hair was straight and black, and she did have a bit of a pug nose. But alcohol didn't notice that. It noticed her low cut blouse, and the way her breasts pressed against the thin material. It noticed the subtle curve of her arse and the way her denims hugged her legs.
Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was because his tired brain wanted to speak English to something that spoke back (the dragons weren't exactly fascinating conversationalists). Whatever it was was enough to convince him to change his routine.
And that was how he found himself in the bar's storeroom, surrounded by dusty bottles of homemade alcohol, with Pansy Parkinson's naked breast between his lips.
His other hand was rough as it fondled her arse, and he gave the round flesh a bit of a slap as her hands worked at his belt.
"Don't do that," she growled, her voice slurred with drink. His belt undone, her hand slid inside his trousers to find his aching erection. She grasped him in his hand and squeezed, and Charlie nearly saw stars. Groaning, his teeth nipped at her nipple in punishment.
"You know," he rasped against her chest, " you're a bit of a bitch." Pulling back, his hands found her hips and he spun her around. Pulling her arse back against his hips, he pushed her against the wall, lips curling when she gasped.
His hands jerked at her denims, fingers curling in the wisp of silk on the way down until her arse was bare. Sliding one hand around to her front, his fingers sought out that wetness waiting between her legs. He rubbed smooth circles around her swollen nub, and then dipped a finger into her sex.
It was too much for him to resist. Withdrawing her hand, he used one foot to kick her feet further apart. With a thrust of his hips, he groaned as he took her from behind. His head leaned forward to rake his teeth over her neck, and his lips found her ear.
"But I kind of like it."