“You’re not paying attention to the game.”
Hermione looked up from her book on Wizardry in the Middle Ages to find her boyfriend of four months looking at her with an unreadable expression in his dark eyes. Giving him a smile that she had perfected thirteen years ago when she had attended her first Quidditch match at Hogwarts, she said, “Quidditch, as I told you when you first mentioned attending the game, is just not a particular favorite, Marcus.”
“Watch the game instead of reading your book, Hermione.” His voice was quiet but commanding, his gaze intense as if he were daring her to protest his authoritative demand.
Hermione hesitated, considering whether or not this was something she wished to be stubborn about or not. Her relationship with Marcus Flint was confusing at the best of times, downright complex at the worst. None of her friends understood her attraction to the former Slytherin. He was large, muscular, not at all attractive in a traditional way, and his teeth gave him an animalistic quality that most found unappealing. To further add to their bewilderment, he was far from academically intelligent, made his living playing Quidditch, and was often surly and rude to anyone that intruded on their private time together.
Hermione couldn’t very well tell them that he was the best lover she had ever had without blushing and stuttering through the explanation. She couldn’t describe the way he made her feel sexy and desirable or the way he released something inside her that had always been dormant with her previous lovers. She couldn’t inform them that he treated her as if she was a beautiful Goddess instead of a rather plain witch that most considered only average in looks if they even considered her at all and that she loved the look of desire and need she would often see in his eyes even when they were in public.
In private, he was so much more than anyone gave him credit for being. He wasn’t brilliant but that did not mean that he was stupid. They could hold a conversation on a variety of subjects without growing bored when they felt inclined. He was rough and demanding but he was also gentle and affectionate. He taught her so much about herself, about her desires and needs, always pushing her to try new things and explore her sexuality. Their relationship was no longer purely based on sex, as it had been when they first met by chance at a club and felt an attraction neither could deny. In the months since that night had resulted in a wild shag in the ladies’ room, they had moved from an occasional shag to spending most of their time together. She wouldn’t call it love, not yet, but she enjoyed being with him and liked being his.
Judging from the look in his eyes, he was planning something. If the slight smirk on his thin lips was any indication, it was something that she was going to enjoy. The last time he’d given her that particular look, he’d allowed her to tie him up and instructed her how to use a whip and several other toys that had provided hours of learning fun. She did love his lessons. The only problem she had at the moment was figuring out which answer would earn her a reward.
She could just imagine if her friends had any idea that she actually liked playing these kind of games, none of them seeming to find her a sexual creature at all despite her brief relationship with Ron during school. Perhaps next time they whined and asked her why she was dating an ugly wanker like Flint, she’d tell them. Well, you see Harry and Ron, I love it when he ties me up for hours and I get soaking wet when he talks dirty to me. Just a look or touch from can excite me far more than sex with my past lovers, and, yes, that does include you Ron darling. Maybe that would at least stop their concerned questions regarding her affair with someone they deemed unsuitable simply because he used to be in Slytherin and scared them. Hogwarts had ended years ago and, along with it, any house differentiation in her viewpoint. As for their other complaint, Marcus was rather scary and threatening with his tall, muscular frame and constant sneer, but she found it rather sexy.
“My book is quite enjoyable, Marcus,” she replied primly, deliberately looking back at the book in her lap. When he shifted beside her, she knew she had made the right choice. His breath was hot against her ear as his hand moved along her leg.
“When this game is over,” he said gruffly in her ear, his fingers tightening around her leg, “I’m going to teach you Quidditch appreciation.”
“I’d like to see you try,” she challenged, watching his eyes narrow. “I can’t stand flying or anything having to do with this silly sport.”
“When I’m finished with you, pet, you’re going to find some aspects very pleasurable,” he promised before nibbling on her ear.
Hermione squirmed as heat began to spread over her body. His teeth were scraping her flesh as his tongue moved along the curve of her ear. When she felt his hand move beneath her skirt, she unconsciously spread her legs for him, not caring that they were in the middle of a crowded Quidditch match or that people must surely be witnessing her wanton behavior. His fingers brushed against the crotch of increasingly wet knickers, her mouth opening as her tongue moved over the suddenly dry surface of her lips.
“We’ll finish this later,” he growled softly, moving his finger along the length of her knickers one last time before removing his hand from beneath her skirt.
She watched through dazed eyes as he licked his finger, whimpering quietly as his leg brushed against hers.
“Read your book, Hermione. We’ll play later.”
Needless to say, Hermione was unable to concentrate on her book following his promise. The remainder of the match was spent being all too aware of how close he was sitting. Every time he leaned forward to get a better view, his leg brushed against hers. His arm moved in front of her to point out a particular play to the wizard seated next to him, deliberately grazing her breasts each time. By the time the Snitch was caught, her knickers were soaking wet and she was convinced everyone around must know that she was having lurid thoughts by the flush on her cheeks and lusty look in her eyes.
When she started to get her things together to leave, Marcus’s hand on her arm stopped her. Looking at him with curiosity, she said, “The game just ended, Marcus.”
“I love the way you state the obvious,” he smirked, enjoying the flash of fire that appeared in her eyes. Before she could argue, he said, “Sit down and wait, pet. Patience is a virtue.”
“I hate cryptic,” she muttered as she scowled at him, her arousal temporarily forgotten.
“Yes, I believe everyone knows that you like to always have the answers to everything. Quit sulking and tell me about what you were reading.”
“Sulking? I am not sulking Marcus Alexander Flint. I do not sulk,” she denied with a glare. “I just do not understand why we cannot leave if the silly game is finished.”
“Tell me about your book, Hermione,” he said, ignoring her questions. His lips curved into a grin when she cursed him under her breath before telling him about the book she was reading. Keeping an eye on the field, he waited for his expected signal while listening to her. He loved how smart she was, the way she was so passionate and could make something as dull as Wizarding history seem exciting and interesting.
He had been forced to repeat his first year at Hogwarts due to family problems that had kept him at home for half the term but everyone assumed it was because he wasn’t smart enough to pass his classes. He hadn’t been a great student, excelling only at Quidditch and Charms, but he had left Hogwarts ranked a bit above the average in his class. No one except Hermione even knew that, not bothering to ever really talk to him to find out he could speak in something other than grunts or pointing as they all seemed to assume. She was an exception to the norm, looking beyond the appearance he had heard his own House describe as resembling a troll to find out that he wasn’t stupid or worthless.
From the moment he’d seen her at the club during the summer, he’d known he had to have her. It had taken him a while to recognize her as anything other than a sexy witch he wanted to shag, but the news that she was the Hermione Granger, best friend of Potter and heroine of the Second War, had not deterred him from his plans to taste her. He’d been shocked when she had responded to him, encouraging him to be a bit more rough and to take her against a wall in the ladies’ loo.
It had been wild, reckless, and the best sex he’d ever had, which was saying something considering he had been shagging since he was fifteen. She was open to just about anything in the bedroom, not at all shy about experimenting with him or suggesting things she wanted to try. The sex was bloody amazing and he was all ready dreading his new season opening in a few days because it would take him away from her as the team traveled. He planned to come home when they weren’t playing or practicing, but there was finally something he valued more than Quidditch: Hermione. And tonight he was going to give her something to remember on those cold nights he wouldn’t be making it home because he had no plans on losing her now that he had her.
“And I’m at the part right now where Ploricus created the first healing potion by using mandrake and prospiro root,” Hermione continued excitedly. She loved that Marcus would listen to her, even if he wasn’t really paying attention. Most men would rather her be quiet and never speak her mind or give her opinions on anything. Marcus liked that she was opinionated, a bit bossy, and not afraid of speaking her mind. Her words were stopped when his finger touched her lips. She looked at him for a moment, noticing that he was looking behind her shoulder towards the pitch.
“It’s time,” he said when he saw Boles give him the signal. He had been forced to bribe his former team member but it was going to be worth it. Standing up, he pulled her against him, giving her a possessive kiss before tossing her over his shoulder.
“Marcus! Put me down this instant,” she exclaimed as she tried to keep her skirt from blowing up beneath her robes. “This isn’t funny.”
“Hush, pet,” he instructed before swatting her arse.
“I can walk, you know? I mastered that at the early age of ten months,” she said dryly, though a part of her was aroused by his behavior.
“Hermione, I will not hesitate in using a Silencio on you if you don’t hush,” he warned as he walked down the stairs to the pitch. The game had ended half an hour ago so the stadium was empty except for a few stragglers waiting for the players. Ignoring anyone that happened to look their way, he strolled purposefully to the locker room marked Visitors. As he entered, he kicked the door shut behind him, locking it and casting a silencing charm on the room with a wave of his wand.
“We shouldn’t be in here,” Hermione protested when she realized where he had taken her. He finally put her down, giving her a smile that made the term devilish seem innocent.
“I took care of it,” he assured her before his eyes swept over the items Boles had arranged for him. Good, it was all there. Looking back at her, he said, “Welcome to your first lesson in Appreciating Quidditch.”
“First lesson?”
“Only lesson if you prove to be a quick study,” he smiled smugly.
“I assure you, Mister Flint, I am an excellent student,” she said defensively. Her eyes were curious as she looked at the pile beside the bench. “What is all that?”
“You’ll find out soon enough, pet.” Marcus walked towards her, his hands unfastening her robe and letting it fall to the floor. “Your tits look great in that shirt.”
“Marcus!” She couldn’t even pretend to be outraged by his vulgar term for her breasts. The bastard knew how turned on she got when he talked dirty.
“Hermione,” he imitated as he began to move his hands beneath the material of her shirt. Gripping both sides from beneath, he pulled it apart, buttons flying all over the room. His large hand found her breast, squeezing the flesh. “Not wearing anything beneath your shirt? What a naughty witch you are, pet.”
“God,” she moaned as he squeezed her breast. She wasn’t exactly well-endowed but she wasn’t small, either. However, Marcus had such large hands that even her full breasts seemed small when he held them.
“Perfect fit for my hand,” he smiled. “I bet your soaking wet aren’t you? I know you want me to shove you against the lockers and fuck that tight cunt of yours until you’re exploding around me. You‘d have let me shag you right in the middle of the crowd earlier without caring who was watching. You wanted them to look at you, to watch you ride my cock and play with these gorgeous tits, to know you were mine.”
“Please,” she whimpered as she moved against him, her previous arousal coming back instantly when she felt his leg moving between hers. Moving against his thigh, she moaned as she felt the friction against her, her juices causing a wet spot to appear on his trousers.
“Not yet, dear girl.” He kissed her teasingly, nibbling on her lips before claiming her mouth. She kissed him back, sucking his tongue and taking possession of his mouth as her hand moved to tangle in his thick black hair. Pulling back from the kiss, his eyes looked into hers for a moment before he stepped back. She nearly fell as he released her, her eyes flashing with disappointment as he walked away.
Marcus found what he was looking for, sliding the Quidditch gloves on his hands. They were leather, rough and worn from many games play. They smelled of broom polish and sweat, two scents that were very familiar to him. He quickly transfigured the bench to make it wider, his plans for the evening requiring more space. Taking her comfort into consideration, he transfigured her robe into a pillow. Putting his wand back in his pocket, he faced her.
“Lie down.” She was looking from the pile beside him to the bench to his eyes. Finally, she moved to the makeshift bed and sat down.
“This isn’t particularly comfortable and I honestly don’t see how this is going to increase my appreciation of that foolish game,” she said under her breath.
“The game of Quidditch is complex,” Marcus began as he straddled the bench. Putting his hand on her shoulder, he pushed her to lay down. “There are many ways in which to score points, the easiest being to catch the Snitch. We shall get to that later. First, I will tell you about the rules of the game.”
“Marcus, really, this is ridiculous. Can we please forget the bloody game and shag?”
“In my game, there are no rules except winning,” he huskily continued, moving his leather clad hand down her arm.
“That’s rough,” she pointed out, feeling the worn leather against her skin.
“You’ll lose points for speaking out of turn if you keep on.” He rolled his eyes, nearly forgetting this seduction idea and simply taking her hard and fast. Bugger it. He wasn’t meant for seduction, he decided. His hand reached between her legs, a leather clad finger snaking its way into her cunt. “You’re so fucking tight, pet. Even after everything we’ve done, you’re tight as a virgin. It’s like heaven, sinking my cock into your wet cunt. You fit me like a glove.”
“What happened to the lesson?” she asked breathlessly, the worn leather brushing against all the right places.
“This is the lesson,” he growled before kissing her, a second finger joining the first. Moving his lips across her cheeks and down her neck, he said, “To fully enjoy the sport, you have to appreciate the equipment. Your gloves grow worn and rough with repeated use, but you want them that way because they won’t slide on your broom. Do you like feeling them inside you?”
“God yes,” she moaned as she rode his gloved hand. He had great hands. Large with long fingers, calloused palms from years of playing Quidditch, they felt so good touching her body.
Marcus moved his lips over her breast, sucking her nipples as he continued fucking her with his fingers, knowing she needed to be wet for the next part of the lesson. He ran his finger from her clit to her arse, letting her juices drip down before thrusting them into her again. Once she was stretched and soaking wet, he removed his hand. Leaning over, he licked a path along her stomach as he reached for two items off the floor. Raising his leg, he moved one onto the bench, keeping his head against her body so she wouldn’t notice until it was too late.
“Please stop teasing,” she said sharply, the wood beneath her uncomfortable but the pillow did help a bit.
“The most vital thing in Quidditch is your broom.” Marcus moved the head of the Firebolt against her wet cunt. “You’re so fucking wet, I can smell you from here,” he muttered before lowering his head between her legs. His tongue ran along her slit, lapping at her, curling and entering her as his large nose brushed against her sensitive nub. He could hear her gasping above him, slowly moving the broom closer. Spreading her lips with his fingers, he slid the broom into her.
“What’s that?” she groaned as she felt something thick and hard begin to penetrate her. Looking down, her eyes widened as she saw him pushing a broom into her. “Stop, you can’t, Marcus!”
“Shh, pet,” he gave her a heated look. “Do you know how fucking sexy you are right now? Naked, aroused, smelling of sweat, sex, and Quidditch, my broom in your tight cunt. I’m so hard, Hermione. My broom looks good inside you.”
“It hurts,” she moaned as he pushed more into her. It wasn’t as big as his cock, but it was comparable to her second lover. The rigid material took some adjustment, but her eyes rolled as he began moving it in and out of her. Just as she began to actually enjoy him fucking her with the broom, she heard a soft whirring sound right before something cold touched her clit. Crying out, she arched up, sending the broom inside her even more. “Oh God!”
“Catching the Snitch is worth the most points,” Marcus told her as he moved the activated Snitch over her clit, letting the vibrations send shockwaves of pleasure throughout her. “You like catching the Snitch, don’t you, pet?”
“Fuck,” was the only word to escape Hermione’s lips as she rode the Firebolt in a way she was certain was not intended. Her hands caressed her breasts as she thrashed on the bench, the whirring against her clit unbelievable. As she felt her release approaching, Marcus removed the broom from her cunt. She whimpered at the loss, crying out when it was suddenly pushed into her arse.
“You taste so fucking good.” He licked her cunt, his face at an angle to avoid getting hit by the Snitch, as he moved the Firebolt into her arse with shallow thrusts.
Hermione couldn’t believe he was shagging her in the arse with the broom. It was so hard, not relenting at all in the tight space. It had taken her time to get used to having him taking her there, finding it very enjoyable now, but this was a bit painful. The handle was slick with her juices so it was lubricated but it was so thick and hard that she felt each thrust, several sensations spreading throughout her. She felt absolutely wicked allowing him to do this, actually enjoying having him licking her and shagging her with his blasted broom. She began to move against his face, the broom entering her more deeply.
Marcus moved the broom down, not wanting to hurt her, leaving just a small length inside her tight arse. She was moaning, her juices flowing freely. He loved the taste of her, his tongue moving over her pink lips before plunging inside her. He could taste her mixing with the lotion from the broom, his two favorite things combined. When he heard her whimpering above him, he knew she was ready, recognizing the sounds of her approaching release easily. He moved the hand holding the Snitch and placed it directly on her clit, letting the vibrating ball send her over the edge. It didn’t take her long to come, her orgasm hitting hard. She keened with pleasure, her arse tightening around the broom preventing him from removing it.
“Need you,” she whined, releasing the broom and moving against his face. She was relieved when he removed the broom and tossed the Snitch on the floor beside them before shucking his robes and unfastening his trousers.
He entered her completely, groaning as her wet warmth enveloped his cock. Pulling out until only the head remained, he pushed back in deeply, his balls slapping against her arse with each thrust. Her hands moved beneath his robe and shirt, gliding over his flesh as he moved inside her. He fucked her hard, his mouth finding her breasts, biting and sucking her flesh as she moved against him.
“Fuck me harder, damn it,” she urged, her fingernails digging into his back as she moved beneath him. At her words, he penetrated her deeply, his hands gripping her hips to the point she knew there would be bruises. He might know she liked it when he talked dirty, but she knew that he liked it even more when she was being vulgar during sex. “I love your cock. So long and thick. I need more, Marcus.”
“Bloody hell,” he cursed softly as he pulled her legs up and placed them over his shoulders. At the new angle, he was able to enter her differently, brushing against her clit with each push forward. Sweat was dripping down his back beneath his shirt, his face covered in her sweet juices. He wished he’d taken off his robe because it was getting in the way, the coarse material brushing against his bare arse and thighs. “Come for me, pet. I want you to scream my name.”
His hand drifted between them, finding her swollen clit and twisting. She obeyed, screaming his name as she came, her muscles tightening around him and causing him to moan in pleasure. Within a half dozen thrusts, he was arching his back and grunting as he came. Collapsing on top of her, their ragged breathing filled the empty locker room before he reluctantly withdrew from her.
“That was,” Hermione tried to catch her breath as she looked at him, “unbelievable. But if you ever try putting your broom there again, I’ll see how you like it stuck up your arse.”
“I always knew you were a kinky one,” he winked at her, giving her a leer before catching her lips in a more gentle kiss than they’d shared all evening. When they parted, he brushed a brown curl behind her ear. “If you insist, next time, I’ll ask first.”
“Good,” she smiled before admitting, “I enjoyed it once I adjusted. It’s just, I’d much rather have you inside me than your broom.”
“I was merely trying to teach you to appreciate my favorite game.”
“You have probably imagined shagging me with your broom since we met, you wicked man!” Hermione teased.
“Well, that too,” he grinned before he cast a cleaning charm on the broom and Snitch. “Have I mentioned my fantasy about us shagging while flying?”
“No way,” Hermione protested as she began to get dressed, not bother to put on her knickers after cleaning herself of their combined release. Her bum was almost as sore as it was when he shagged her there, a cringe crossing her face as she sat up.
“We’ll see,” was his only response as he transfigured the bench back to normal and fixed her robe.
Rolling her eyes behind his back, she did a quick reparo on her shirt, knowing that was one fantasy of his that would never come true. When he turned and gave her a wolfish smile, she gulped, the room growing warmer suddenly despite the exhausting activities in which they had just indulged. Never was such a final word, she thought. Perhaps not likely would be more suitable.
“Ready to go, pet?” he asked as he made sure the room was clean and their presence undetectable as he had promised Boles.
“Will you stay over tonight?”
“Of course.” He took her hand, and pulled her closer, fastening her robe for her.
“Good. You know that Crookshanks considers you his new toy,” she said primly, her eyes flashing with amusement.
“Blasted cat isn’t very smart, is he? Everyone knows that I’m your toy,” he winked before kissing her again.
“Let’s go home,” she murmured against his lips. As she walked to the door, she looked over her shoulder and gave him a saucy smile. “Don’t forget to bring the Snitch.”
The End.