Title: Contrasts
Author: smolder
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Angel the Series belongs to Joss Whedon and David Greenwalt. Harry Potter belongs to J.K Rowling.
A/N: These drabbles won't always be in strict chronological order.
A/N 2: Reviews are Good. This has been a subtle hint from the author - Please return to your regularly scheduled reading.
Montgomery has to wonder if maybe contrasts can be a kink. Because when her hands that look so delicate, but are roughened from working with the tools she uses to tinker with her invention touch him – her pale skin gliding against his dark - it's all he can do to remember to breathe.
And when he looks up into her eyes and sees the look on her face. That look that tells him that even though he might have had girlfriends before Fred (might be physically older than her), she has a lifetime of bits of memory to pull from here. When he sees that look he is well aware he is not the experienced one in this relationship.
Young body, old eyes.
Fred is all contrasts.
She leans down over him where they are spread out on his new couch, their shirts already on the hardwood floor. (Christening his new apartment. Celebrating his new job as Head (and currently only member) of the Ministry's newly formed "Runes Department". He was just happy to finally be employed and out of his parent's place. It was awkward having to apparate to her apartment that she shared with the twins whenever he wanted to see her. Now he had some space to himself – some space for them.) Her long hair falls forward, tickling his shoulders, creating a curtain between and the outside world. Her bra scratches his chest a bit.
Smart girl glasses, dark wavy hair, smooth pale skin, red lace, willowy frame, wicked eyes, innocent smile, knowing hands.
Montgomery pulls her tighter against him, leans the last little bit and kisses her hard, feeling her respond. The way she gives a little sigh and her body curls into his completely. The sharp press of her hipbone, the softness of her thigh, (contrasts) until it tenses. And she shifts against him, getting some leverage again and moving from his mouth to his neck. He runs his hands down her back as the sensual gentleness of lips turns to the playful nip of teeth. And Fred looks up at him with a giggle at what she just did – the memories of vampires and much less playful biting.
They are both mostly naked, her body partiality arched against his, her glasses sliding down her nose, his body strumming. And his Fred - his Fred is looking up at him through her eyelashes and giggling.
Contrast.
Merlin, he is so gone.
And he has to laugh too because Montgomery knows Fred probably has way too many contrasts for him to ever learn them all. But, bloody hell, he definitely wants to try.