She gasps as his hands move over her bare skin. They are not smooth like the rest of his tall and lean body, instead rough from years of holding a broomstick. Calloused fingertips move over her breasts, tweaking her nipples, making her moan. He chuckles, his breath hot against her neck, pleased at her reaction. It is the same reaction she always has when he gets like this, a bit rough but still the gentle man she had fallen in love with five years ago. He is excited, his erection pressing against her bum.


She inhales, the scent of fresh grass and cool night air and his woodsy scent that is only slight spicy mixed with sweat and a bit of vanilla from their joint shower that morning. He is confident, focused entirely on her. It is one of the many things she loves about him, his concentration on the few things he loves and his ability to pay little attention to anything else. She is the top of the list of things he loves, having moved above Quidditch within six months of their first date, arranged by Ron after her best friend began playing for Puddlemere and realized that Oliver might just be what she needed. It was a strange pairing, she knew, not making sense to many except those that knew her well. She loved Oliver, though, and he was devoted to her.


She moans as his hands slid down her stomach, disappearing into her panties. His fingers drift lower, fleeting touches where she needs him most. She growls softly, letting him know she is not amused at his teasing playfulness. Anywhere but here, he can tease her as long as he wants, but here, there is the threat of being seen. It adds excitement to their coupling, but it also means it has to be rough and fast before they get caught. His lips on her neck, his tongue moving against the sensitive flesh behind her ear, knowing exactly where to touch her to get the best reaction. She moves back against his hard body, her fingers digging into his thighs as she whimpers, needing him inside her now.


She groans as he rips her panties, her heartbeat racing from his rough act, spreading her legs to give him better access. He enters her quickly, her pussy so wet from his teasing that he slides in with ease. She leans forward slightly, causing him to go deeper. He brushes his lips over her back as they fuck, his hand on her lower stomach. She braces her hand against the wall, passion and desire in her eyes as she stares at the field in front of her. The scoreboard still shows the Puddlemere win, her husband’s happiness at winning always meaning that they will shag before they return the home. She doesn’t mind. Love is a quidditch field and her husband buried deep within her.


She cries out as she comes, her body tightening before exploding. His hands grab her hips and he thrusts into her more quickly, his release nearing, grunting as he comes. She feels him pull out of her, turning around and smiling at him, his eyes moving over her face as he kisses her. She kisses him back, her hand moving into his short brown hair as she whispers that she loves him.

*the end*