Hermione was exiting the stands when she felt a large hand cover her mouth, her slender body pulled back against a very hard, very muscular, very sweaty body. Before she realized what was happening, she was beneath the stands with her face against the wall, a large hand roughly shoving her shirt over her breasts, rough palms squeezing them hard enough to bruise. She struggled against the strong arms holding her, feeling an erection pressing against her back, fingernails digging into the flesh of his arm.
There was a mocking laugh in her ear, “You’re mine and you know it,” before the hand moved beneath her skirt and ripped her panties from her. Hermione pressed against his hand, feeling his long fingers slide into her wet pussy. She had been anticipating this, knowing how he got when his team lost, her panties soaked with her juices. Yes, it was true.
Studious and boring Hermione loved it when he played rough, which was quite often. She had never imagined getting involved with someone like Marcus Flint. She had seen him in school, knowing him as the rude Slytherin quidditch captain several years older that had been held back a year, but she‘d never spoken to him until a chance meeting at one of Pansy‘s parties a couple of years ago. When they‘d been introduced, she‘d felt something she‘d never felt before, an attraction that had both scared and excited her. He was too big, too muscular, too rough, too animalistic. Those were the things she loved about him, though. He was actually surprisingly intelligent, able to carry on a conversation, usually following sex that left her exhausted and aching in a very good way.
He treated her well, knowing exactly what she liked and how to give it to her, able to be gentle and worship her when she was having a bad day, able to give her space to work and read, his possessiveness turned her on, his ability to turn her into a wanton hussy excited her, and she loved having him inside her. Their relationship had surprised everyone that knew them, most of their friends still placing wagers on how long it would be before they broke up since they had so little in common.
Marcus dealt with his quidditch groupies and she dealt with Adrian constantly flirting with her and trying to get into her knickers. And, okay, a part of her really wished Marcus would move past the jealous ‘you’re mine’ bit and invite Adrian to join them because she’d heard all about their habit of sharing women in the past and found the idea of having both the Slytherins, Marcus and his rugged and rough good looks and Adrian with his charming pretty boy handsomeness, inside her was enough to make her wet without even getting too detailed.
She was pulled from the very naughty thoughts when she felt Marcus’ finger on her clit. He smelled of sex and mud and sweat, his anger at being defeated being channeled into fucking her hard and fast. His fingers moved out of her and she found herself turned and pressed against the stands, his lips crashing down on hers in a fierce kiss, his tongue claiming her mouth as he thrust into her. She gasped as he stretched her, his cock wide and thick, still a bit painful to take all at once even after two years. He penetrated her deeply, unconcerned for her comfort, needing to vent his frustration and knowing that she was there for him. He’d never intentionally hurt her, the slight pain always fading and replaced with intense pleasure. Of course, she’d be lucky to be able to walk following this fuck.
“So fucking wet,” Marcus smiled devilishly when he released her lips, his tongue moving over his teeth in a predatory manner before he kissed her again, his hands gripping her arse in his large hands, squeezing the flesh so tight she could all ready feel the bruises forming. He began to fuck her hard, pulling out and then thrusting back in, her back hitting the wall with each stroke of his shaft. His lips moved from hers, nibbling her neck, sucking her flesh into his mouth, deliberately leaving marks to remind everyone that she was his.
Hermione’s fingers gripped his short black hair, her over hand moving over his back, feeling the mud caked to his uniform from his fall earlier. His hair was wet, his face sweaty and rain soaked, his scent masculine and arousing. His hands shifted beneath her, one large hand holding her, his rough palm against her smooth bottom, the other hand finding her breast and squeezing. His fingers twisted her nipple, his cock grinding into her, his teeth nibbling on her neck. She came with a scream, not caring that they were beneath the quidditch stands, not caring that anyone could be wandering by and hearing their rough mating, only caring that he was buried inside her and fucking her so bloody well.
Hermione’s head fell over his broad shoulder as her orgasm spread throughout her body, her fingernails digging into his back, gripping his uniform shirt. Her legs were around his waist, his body increasing speed as she came, her muscles tightening around his cock, urging him to follow her into release. He resisted, simply fucking her through her orgasm, his breath in her ear as he said, “I love fucking you, Hermione. You’re so fucking tight. I love making you come, watching your face as you explode, knowing that it’s my cock you crave, my hands your body wants, my body that satisfies you, that you want me and only me!”
“I’m yours, Marcus,” she whispered before kissing his cheek and neck, oblivious to the sweat and mud that covered the ruggedly handsome face.
“Mine,” he growled as he fucked her deeper, her words enough to send him over the edge. He buried himself inside her as he came, groaning, “Yours, Hermione,” before his lips claimed hers. They kissed as he continued thrusting into her until his cock was spent. Finally, he pulled out, his eyes raking over her as he smiled smugly. “I love seeing you like this, Hermione. Hair a mess, lips swollen, my mark on your neck, hard nipples, my come dripping down your thighs. Just been fucked looks great on you. So bloody beautiful.”
“Feel better?” she teased when she could breathe normally, loving when he talked dirty. Yes, yet another surprising thing about goody goody Hermione. She loved it when Marcus talked dirty, the naughtier he spoke, the more aroused she tended to get. He knew it, too, the bastard loving to come up to her at parties and whisper the raunchiest things in her ear until she was the one pulling him into an empty closet for a quick shag. She saw him smile and knew he was getting over his team’s defeat, her hands finding her wand, quickly cleaning their mixed releases off her body before she straightened her clothes.
“Much,” he smirked as he tucked his cock back into his pants, not bothering to clean up, knowing he would be taking a long shower when they got back to their flat, preferably with his witch on her knees sucking his cock and then perhaps a nice long fuck with a lot of teasing to torment her a bit, Marcus knowing that she loved when he spent hours teasing her and driving her wild with his tongue and hands even as she claimed to hate him for torturing her so.
“You ready to go home? I think we could both use a shower,” Hermione smiled at the naughty gleam that entered his eyes at her words, her body reacting instantly. Oh yeah, she wouldn’t be walking tomorrow. She’d never admit it, but, Merlin, she loved when his team lost.
The end.