Fixing to Fly
Chapter Twenty-Six
Author's Note: All right. I warn you now, this has very little to do with advancing the plot so much as it has to do with quelling my urge for a little Darcy/Oliver action. I think this chapter definitely earns its 'PG-13' if not 'R' rating. Not 'NC-17' yet, as they don't "do it" in this particular chapter, but that comes later. ;) In all truth, this is a filler chapter, and my chance to test-drive my skills at writing smutty fluff. Or perhaps it's fluffy smut…? I don't know, you be the judge. Either way, the next chapter will be the Yule Ball, and then Christmas Break after that. Hopefully this will tide over your wonderfully sweet, reviewing souls till I get to the chance to hack out some more.
Righto, onto the love…
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Dipping her quill into the bottle of glittery red ink, the Gryffindor Prefect stretched out the role of parchment in front of her and began to write.
Dear Mom,
How's life in London? I know it's been a while since I've written… Okay, over a month. But It's been quite the hectic month for me, so hopefully you'll forgive your beloved Head Girl/Prefect/Seeker/Quidditch captain daughter.
Let's see, if I remember correctly, the last time I wrote, Oliver Wood had just gotten out of the hospital and we were prepping for our match with Ravenclaw. Well… I've a bit of bad news, I'm afraid. Due to personal reasons, Kotter had to leave the team a week before the Ravenclaw match. But, I'm happy to report that I was able to successfully bring one of our reserve Chasers, Angelina Johnson, up to speed, and we made a spectacular defeat over the Raves. The week after that, Slytherin beat Ravenclaw too, so we ended up playing Slyth again for the winter finals. But we won! And by quite a nice point margin, if I do say so myself. (And I do.) Hopefully this bodes well for our chances at the Quidditch Cup in spring; I'm keeping my fingers crossed, at any rate.
How've you and Dad been? Is Chloe excited about starting at Hogwarts next year? Tell her that her big sister is already putting a good word in for her with the Gryff crowd. And how's Jaime? He hasn't written me lately, but I suppose he's been busy as well. You'll have to do me a favor, Mom, and find out what he wants for Christmas so I can actually surprise him this year.
And while I'm on the topic of Christmas, I've decided to go ahead and stay here for the holidays, seeing as it's my last year and everything, not to mention they want at least one Prefect to stay and watch over the students who aren't leaving either. So don't forget to go ahead and forward my presents here to Hogwarts, and I'll make sure mine get to you, too.
Anyway. I know you and Dad are probably curious about how my life's been going lately. Well, on the academic front, I've been keeping busy with classes and studying for my N.E.W.T.s, which I think I'll have no problem acing. And on the personal front…
Darcy frowned as she drew her quill away from the paper. This was the part she hated, the part she never seemed to be able to write. She knew the longer she put it off, the worse it would get, as there was already so much to tell… but every time she sat down with intentions to at last break the news, she'd suddenly lose her will, and the truth would go on, hidden, for another month. Her parents had begun to grow curious, every new letter they sent querying about Kotter. And yet every letter she sent them back still avoided the topic altogether. It was unfair, to both herself and her family, but she just couldn't bring herself to do it…
Intentionally wasting time as she sought once more for the willpower to confess to her parents, she let her eyes wander over to the newest picture amongst the array on her desktop. It was her and Oliver, both in full Quidditch regalia, seated upon her Nimbus '99. The Keeper had his arms wrapped possessively around her waist, her own hands laid overtop his, their heads inclined together as their toes hovered a few inches above the ground. A camera-happy Keely had captured the image at the last game of the winter season, only moments after their defeat of Slytherin—and only seconds before Oliver had planted a very passionate, very public kiss on Darcy's lips. At that point, the gossip over the final battle between she and Kotter had only just been dying down; Oliver's kiss had then opened a whole new wave of knowing smiles and cooed whispers over Hogwarts' newest couple.
She drew the photo to her with a smile, running her thumb affectionately over Oliver's playfully grinning face. There was glint in his eye she hadn't noticed before; he'd known exactly what he was about to do, and was quite pleased with himself, no less.
Oh Oliver, she mused, shaking her head, what kind of trouble have I gotten myself into with you? She was still adjusting to all the wonderful attention the fourth-year lavished upon her—bringing her flowers between classes, dropping random kisses on her collarbone as he passed, sending her owls with notes that simply said, You're gorgeous, baby. Love, Oliver. And just when she was certain he could be no sweeter, a house elf would show up at her dorm with a heart-shaped cupcake from "Mr. Oliver." But perhaps the strangest thing, what was taking her the longest to get used to, was that he honestly loved and cared about her. Not about the fact that she was Head Girl, or Quidditch captain, or that her family was rich, but that she was Darcy Reed. That, in itself, was a whole new concept for the girl, one that she wouldn't at all mind getting used to.
With a last adoring grin, she set the picture frame back in its place and returned her attention to the unfinished letter, sighing. Now if only she could find the words to explain to her family just how wonderful Oliver Wood was…
She'd begun to absently twirl one of her gold curls around her finger when the sound of the dorm door clicking open brought her to attention. Instantly she grinned, recognizing the unique aroma of Oliver's cologne as it proceeded him into the room. She restrained herself from turning around, or even lifting her head, knowing it would antagonize her chocolate-eyed Keeper.
"Something you needed?" she queried in a tone of nonchalance, feigning exquisite interest in her half-finished letter.
Only centimeters from her ear, his voice was a husky growl as he answered, "Just you." Warm, broom-callused hands dove into her thick curls, drawing the mass of hair aside to make way for the gentle lips that fluttered down her neck. "Every minute… of every day… all the time… you." His words came between playful nips along the plane of her collarbone.
"That sounds like a serious problem, Mr. Wood," she mused, enjoying the tingling sensations cropping up along her flesh at every place his lips grazed.
He nodded, resting his forehead against her temple. "Mmm, very serious."
Darcy smirked, unable to resist a giggle as he batted his eyelashes playfully on her cheek. Spinning to face him, allowed her hands to be captured within his own as she queried lightly, "Did you just come up here to play, or was there actually something you wanted, Oliver? In case you hadn't noticed, I am in the middle of writing a letter."
"In fact, I had noticed," the fourth-year replied, smiling mischievously. "But then I got lost in your eyes."
Quirking a skeptical eyebrow, she mused, "What have I told you about stealing pick-up lines from Brian?"
In response, Oliver shot her his most charming smile and kissed each of her fingertips. "Well, I suppose there was some bit of purpose for me coming up here, though I just can't seem to remember what it was…" he continued to kiss along her palm.
"Perhaps if you stopped seducing my appendage and let some of the blood flow return to your brain, you'd be able to remember," she suggested coyly, crossing one leg over the other and forcing the Keeper back a step. He sighed reproachfully, shaking his head at her as he dropped ungracefully down onto the edge of her bed.
"You're no fun."
She waved a dismissive hand at the fourth-year. "Yeah, yeah, yeah. Save it for the locker room, Wood. Now get to the point… besides the one in the front of your pants."
Raising a curious eyebrow, Oliver glanced thoughtfully down at the small tent that had been erected in his trousers, then gazed back at Darcy. "That's entirely your fault, you know."
She rolled her eyes. "Hardly."
"I think 'hard' is the word, Miss Reed."
"You're obscene."
"I'm in love."
"Oliver…" her tone was one of warning at the impending loss of her already-short patience.
He sighed. "Right, right. Just wanted to come up and ask you formally if you'd do me the honor of being my date to the Yule Ball." And from the depths of his sleeve, he produced a single, perfect red rose.
The Gryffindor Prefect felt herself melt. "Aww, Ollie… of course I'll be your date… you didn't have to go to the trouble—"
"You, beautiful, are never trouble." He paused, seemed to reconsider this, then flashed her a playful grin. "Well, at least not in my book. I do believe Marcus Flint and the Slytherin Quidditch team would beg to differ."
Trying—and failing—to fix him with a dark glare, she at last settled for a smile and a weary sigh as she told him, "You're a prat, you know?"
"Yes, ma'am. That would be me. Bona fide prat. But I also know you love me anyway, and do you know how I know that? I know that because you—" She leapt upon him mid-sentence, knocking him backward across her bed, her thighs straddling his waist as she placed a long, passionate kiss upon his mouth.
When she finally broke away, she informed him, "You talk too much."
"Muh…" was his incoherent reply. The burning look of desire had taken over the depths of his deep mocha eyes, his Adam's apple bobbing unsteadily as she seated herself directly on his lap. She could feel the heated intensity of his arousal pressing against her through the thin silk of her panties. Darcy grinned mischievously.
She leaned low over the prone fourth-year, her breasts pressing against his chest. Through the material of his uniform sweater, she could feel the individual beats of his heart, fluttering fast and hard in contradiction to her own calm, leisurely pulse. Sinfully and deliberately slow, she ground her hips against his, provoking a low, panting groan from him. She watched as his fingers clenched around the folds of her scarlet duvet, his chocolate eyes rolling back into his head.
"Why, Mister… Wood," she purred, continuing her slow, hypnotic torture. "Is anything the matter? You seem… out of sorts, shall we say?"
A weak chuckle escaped the Keeper, his eyes now closed as he squirmed desirously beneath her. "Darcy… I think—oh man… I think you ought to know, I—what are you doing to me? Oh Merlin… I've only been with a few other girls and—god, please don't stop!—I've never gotten beyond kissing and—oh my—and, um… through-the-clothes, um, touching and—oh jesus… definitely never gotten this far…" He lost his capacity for speech as the blonde bent down and began sucking gently at his earlobe, sending wave after wave of indescribable pleasure straight through his body, till a molten ball of liquid lava seemed to gather at his crotch, holding him on the edge, hovering over the border, mere seconds away from glorious, shuddering, screaming, delicious release and—
She stopped, pulled away, and drew herself up onto her knees, hovering over him with a gorgeously glowing smirk on her features. That smirk alone could have finished the job for him, were she still resting upon his hips. But she'd created a gap between their bodies, allowing a flood of cold air to spill over him and quell his libido the minutest of bits.
Frustration written quite plainly on his features, he propped himself upon his elbows, demanding petulantly, "Why did you stop?"
"It's getting late," was her reply as she absently trailed her fingers across the waistband of his trousers, toying with him even still. "And while I'm only reviewing in my Magical Medicine class first thing tomorrow, I have it on good authority that you'll be receiving a very hard pop quiz from one Professor Binns on the events of the Centaur Awareness Convention."
Oliver's brow wrinkled in confusion. "How do you know that?"
"I grade papers for Binns during my fourth class free period," she replied knowingly, "and I don't want to have to mark a big red 'F' on my boyfriend's paper tomorrow." She positioned her features into a delectable pout, the ministrations of her fingertips now wandering to soft flesh just beneath the elastic waistband of his boxer shorts.
Moaning painfully, he protested, "C'mon, baby, don't do this to me… this isn't fair…"
"What isn't fair?" she queried in that low, husky voice that was designed for travel straight to the male appendage. "Me grading your papers?"
"God, you are infuriating," he proclaimed through gritted teeth, but he'd collapsed onto the bed and wound his fingers into the comforter once more, slowly falling back under the influence of her charms as the liquidy fire sensation began to re-gather in his groin. He was on the edge again, so painfully close to falling over that precipice, and she was holding him there intentionally in mind-numbing, excruciating ecstasy. "I swear to Merlin, you're part Veela."
She let one silky gold eyebrow glide up questioningly. "You think?"
"Please don't make me beg," was his gasped reply, every fiber of his body singing out for release at the hands of his oh-so-sweet torturer. "You know what I want…"
Letting her curtain of gold curls fall delicately around her face as she dipped in to steal a kiss, she whispered, "I love you, Oliver." And as she fiercely claimed his lips with her own, her hand at last slipped into his boxers, and it took only the lightest brush of her fingertips against his fevered flesh to send him spiraling over the abyss of sheer bliss. He cried out her name, his body shuddering with endless waves of pleasure, till he seemed to melt down into the bed, quivering.
"Jesus christ, Darcy… jesus…" he panted as a sticky warmth spread throughout the front of his pants. She'd curled her lithe body up on top of him, her ear pressed against his chest as she listened to the sound of his slowing heartbeat. He reached up to tangle one hand in the lengths of her hair, the other wrapping comfortably around her waist, as he told her, "You're the first girl to ever… you know… for me."
"Good," she replied, nuzzling into the warmth of his body. "I wanted to be."
A sudden, sweeping exhaustion seemed to overtake the fourth-year, who found it increasingly difficult to keep his eyes open as he laid tangled so comfortably with his beautiful girlfriend. "I should get up," he murmured. "I should go to my dorm and go to bed."
"You should." Her voice sounded groggy as his own.
"I should go before one of us falls asleep… or something…" But he trailed off as he realized he was too late; Darcy was already deep in slumber, her breaths soft and shallow against his chest. And at that Oliver gave into temptation, and let his own mind wander off to join hers in the depths of dreams.
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So what did we think? I know I'm biased, but I think Darcy and Ollie are such an absolutely sweet couple. And all I can say (and I think you'll all agree) is it's about bloody time! ;) Right. Now that I've soiled your fragile, virgin little minds with my dirty writing ;) I best scamper off to begin a chapter with some actual plot. As always, reviews are very much appreciated. *hint hint* Not that I ever need to ask you guys; honestly, you're the absolute greatest about giving me positive feedback. Go you guys!
Mucho cyber love to you all ~ Adele