idea_of_sarcasm: (Default)
idea_of_sarcasm ([personal profile] idea_of_sarcasm) wrote2009-06-28 01:23 am

Fic: A Different Form of Kindness (Katie/Marcus) *adult*

Title: A Different Form of Kindness
Author: [ profile] idea_of_sarcasm
Rating: Light R
Pairing(s): Katie Bell/Marcus Flint
Summary: The truth is usually better and more helpful than a kind shelter from it.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction set in the Harry Potter universe – all recognisable characters and settings are the property of J. K. Rowling and her associates. No copyright infringement is intended. No profit is made from this work. Please observe your local laws with regards to the age-limit and content of this work
Warning(s): Language
Word Count: ~5,600
Author's Notes: Written for [ profile] lady_green_bat in the [ profile] hp_rarities exchange. Which I struggled mightily with, ha - however I obviously did eventually produce a finished product. One of these days in an exchange I'm going to get a recipient who has possible pairings that doesn't involve me writing these two :)

"You beckoned?" Katie asked the question irritably, even as she stood at the edge of the pool, watching Marcus lazily swim laps.

Another man, she might have been more receptive to appreciating the view while she waited, not that the actual sight was a hardship right then. There was no denying that the muscles in his arms rippled nicely as he moved, and she knew full well the state of the rest of the body the swimwear barely covered, but it was him - and she knew the mouth and the mind the rest of the package came attached to. That was a reference his personality, not the status of his teeth. She'd stopped harping on those a few years back, even though he still liked to point out her physical deficiencies when he was in the mood to needle her. Katie supposed it didn't help that she knew he would notice and comment if she so much as let her gaze linger for a second on a nicely developed pectoral.

What she should have done was ignore the owl that had tapped on the window of her hotel room, carrying the note that bore his signature.

Instead, she was standing by the pool, wondering what the hell he wanted. Katie supposed one didn't just ignore the summons from the English team captain, even if he was Marcus bloody Flint, and even if it was well past the hour when they should both be in bed. There might not be a curfew, but they should all be bloody adult enough to know what was required to get the best Quidditch out of them. As she waited for him to surface and pay attention to her properly, Katie took in the scenery around her, as she'd ignored the opulence of their surroundings thus far.

The Cleoninda resort in Dover normally played home to rich and extravagant wizards willing to spend for posh breaks. With it being the off season, they'd given their best rooms to the English Quidditch national team whom were holding workouts at the stadium nearby. Every professional player in the country had been invited to show their mettle, though they all knew most of the starting team and reserves were determined beforehand. Still, they were all there for the possibility - from the glamorous captain of the Holyhead Harpies down to the first reserve chaser for the atrocious Chudley Cannons; the first reserve chaser who was just so grateful to have a team to play for.

All the egos in one location for a week. It was a miracle England hadn't imploded yet.

The moonlight glistening over the water then might have been lovely in better circumstances, and the charmed decorations that fluttered around the pool area might have been relaxing - or arousing, as the circumstance warranted. The pool was near the size of the one she swam at in London, and the resort was big enough to boast four of them. Still, to any muggle wandering by, from the outside it just looked like a little farm unless one got in past the charms.

When Marcus reached the one end, and finished, head splashing out of the water - he shot her a glance, and she knew he was well aware she had been there the whole time and had heard her voice. "Fuck Bell, you need to loosen up."

"Fuck Marcus," she mimicked his tone, "I need to sleep. So what was so all important that you had to get me down here in the middle of the night?"

"Well it wasn't that I was looking for the pleasure of your fucking company," he retorted.

"And I didn't come down here for yours."

For a moment Katie actually entertained the notion that he'd brought her down just to screw with her, but while Marcus could be an ass, he wasn't petty. Well, except perhaps in insults occasionally. Marcus didn't answer the question however, at least not directly. "The first cuts are in two days."

The comment seemed like a non sequitur to her, but he seemed to expect her to respond as if they'd been having a meaningful conversation about the topic. "So they are," she said finally.

Like she hadn't known that, like they all weren't well aware. The field would be narrowed down to a mere fifty players from whom the final fourteen would be chosen - the team that would represent England in world competition for the next four years bar unfortunate injuries. It wasn't like she didn't know either that Marcus was part of the management team that was going to be making that decision; chaser on the previous World Cup national team, he had indeed been appointed captain based on his league play just months before.

He seemed to look at her expectantly still, and she threw up her hands in defeat. "It's not like you to be so bloody cryptic Marcus, what is it you want me to say?"

All she got in return was a snort. "I suppose I was expecting the usual sycophantic behaviour." He held up his hand before Katie could get in a retort, "Yes, I know a big word, get over it. There's been a fair bit of groveling, seductive offers, and so many attempts at convincing me that I should recommend each certain player for a position. Like as a fellow player I will give a flying fuck about their special circumstances. Half this bloody team seems to have their head up my arse."

"I would think you would like that," Katie said with a small smirk, "considering you had to leave Adrian Pucey behind in London to come here for workouts, and well, his prick that I'm sure you. . . "

She might have been innocent and blushed at comments like that once, but years of being one of the blokes had turned that around.

"You think you're fucking hilarious don't you?"

Katie stopped, pretending to consider, "Well, if the wand fits."

A splash of water from the pool had her trousers soaked, and she narrowed her eyes at him in annoyance, but Marcus was speaking again. "So," he looked at her, "it's your turn. Come on Bell, lay it on me, why do you think I should make a case for your skinny little arse to survive the cut on Saturday."

A befuddled stare was all she could give him for a few moments. "So let me get this straight. After complaining about all the people trying to convince their way onto the team rather than play their way onto it, you owled me just so I would come down and do the same. Are you pissed, or just being your usual idiotic self? Are you telling me I should pour out some sob story, or maybe offer you a blow job just for the privilege of you considering me as a viable teammate? I'd genuflect, but I'd like to save my muscles for scrimmages tomorrow."

"Trust me, I know better to expect nice from you, let alone anything subservient," Marcus snorted, "but the rest, you're about the only one who hasn't approached me yet under some pretense, and you know me no less. So let's just say I wonder about the unknown."

"You are bloody insane," Katie shook her head, astonished. "And trust me, knowing you has not been a privilege."

A bit of a lie if she were honest. Well, maybe a stretch of the truth, as she honestly didn't consider his acquaintance a privilege. Still, they got on well together in their own way, even if they didn’t really consider themselves friends. In the Quidditch world they rarely interacted, oddly enough, considering they played for teams on opposite sides of the country - and he was higher up in that world than she. Socially however, they could share something; opposites in so many ways, they had the shared bond of not really fitting into the elitist pureblooded world they found themselves a part of, even if it was for vastly different reasons. Something they had oddly bonded over in their own screwed up way once they'd grown up enough to get past house prejudices.

She knew he'd hate the comparison, to the extent that he would probably threaten to avada her, but he reminded her of Oliver in a lot of ways. Well, Oliver with more profanity, worse teeth, and without a filter on his mouth occasionally, but like the other man none the less.

Except she'd never had the odd little desire she'd never admit to to shag Oliver.

Pushing that little niggling thought aside, Katie continued before he could say something else. "You are not the be all and end all of this bloody team, and even if you were are not going to have this conversation. If I'm good enough to make the team, if I'm the right fit, I will. If there's something I can count on you for Marcus, it's that you're going to put that first if nothing else."

It was true enough. To Marcus, Quidditch was life, and he would do what it took to win - even if it meant her on the team, or even if it meant Ginny Weasley who for reasons she wasn't sure there was a reason for, Marcus detested. Bigotry of any kind wasn't going to be an issue, no matter how much he insulted all of them verbally.

"You are so full of shite."

"No, I'm not."

"What the fuck are you doing here then Bell? You should be willing to do anything to get on this fucking team, want it so bad you can barely stand the idea you might not make it."

Katie resisted the urge to throw something at him. "I only want this if it's right, I only want it if I've earned it. And don't you dare think I don't care. You might not understand me, but this is about more. I'm not going to be one of those players who sneakily tries to injures others, who learns the charm to take felix felicis undetected, who offers sexual favours for a spot, extol their virtues obnoxiously to those in charge, or tells their bloody sob story to try and sway things. This is more to me than that, and always has been." The only reason she had been able to live with the decision to make Harry captain in her last year of school, the reason she could honestly tell him not to grandfather her onto the team, and the reason she could accept her lot in the Quidditch world without bitterness.

The funny thing was too, she could probably spin a story worthy of empathy, not that the words were ever going to leave her mouth.

"So bloody noble. . . ." Marcus began, but she cut him off.

"You might not see it my way, but like you would be any different. If nothing else you would have some fucking pride and not lower yourself to that. You're better than that too."

The words were out before she could stop them. It wasn't that they were inflammatory, or anything similar, but she regretted them all the same. They were complimentary, and the two of them didn't do complimentary. They did antagonism and insults, even if there was never any real heat behind the words they offered each other. It might be the truth, he wouldn't debase himself and Quidditch like that, but it would have gone best unsaid all the same. From the way Marcus was looking at her as well, it was obvious he was at least mildly surprised by her words.

Deflecting, and latching onto a topic she knew best left alone, she crossed her arms and tilted her chin up - and automatic defensive gesture. "Besides, I'm a realist. It doesn't matter what I do here this week. I'm not getting a spot." She knew he would ask, knew he would ask in his snide voice what the fuck she was doing there then, but when she offered the next words they were very quiet, "I had to try though." Even if she knew it was never going to happen, she wasn't going to let herself be haunted by what might have been.

Marcus looked at her for a moment, and she regretted even bringing it up. It had been a means of deflection, but had ended up all the more personal for her.

"You don't think you're good enough," Marcus finally snorted, "With that kind of fucking attitude. . . ."

"No," Katie interrupted, "I think I'm good enough. I know I'm good enough. I think I can fly circles around every chaser out here - yourself included. I also know it doesn't matter in the slightest. I'm a nobody, who can't even fight her way onto the Chudley Cannons because the old guard is so entrenched, so even if I outscore you all it doesn't matter." Her words had risen in volume by the end, and she hated the vulnerability she showed in her frustration.

If she had seen any amount of pity on Marcus' face, she might have hit him right then and there.

There was the sob story she could tell, looking for pity. She could talk about a cursed necklace that kept her out her senior year at Hogwarts. She could talk about her pathetic leadership skills that had denied her the captaincy even before that. There was the curse that shattered her leg at the Battle of Hogwarts just a year later - a war injury, and the year of rehabilitation required to get her herself back to peak performance. And because of that there were all the missed opportunities, and the way she'd been labeled as a risk in Quidditch no matter what else she could accomplish, no matter how good she was again now. Even if it wouldn't get her a spot on the team she could mention her near lack of NEWTS as she'd never planned on anything but Quidditch for most of her life, limiting her with everything.

But she kept her mouth shut, annoyed that she was tense about this now, when she was normally very good at acceptance.

Summons from the bloody captain or not, Katie was already turning around to go when she heard Marcus voice behind her call out, "Suicides."

"Excuse me?" Katie turned back.

"Suicides," he repeated the word, as he treaded water in the pool. It took her a split second, but then she understood. Suicides were the name of the drill that involved swimming the length of the pool, getting out to do five pushups, diving back in and repeating the process. Since they were geared towards upper body strength, they were excellent in developing arms that threw quaffles around all day, and she'd pushed herself through them when training for tryouts. She also remembered they made you feel like you wanted to fucking die.

"Come on Bell," Marcus was saying, "you want to swim, or are you well aware I'm going to wipe the deck with your skinny little arse?"

Being geared toward upper body strength, men did have the advantage, though she was loath to admit it. Still, Katie let her eyes drift towards the pool. "You couldn't take me in a game of gobstones."

"Scared?" Marcus raised his eyebrows.

She knew exactly what he was doing, but still she let him get to her. "Hardly. I just have better things to do than tire myself out before another day of. . . "

"You couldn't compete with fucking Galvin Gudgeon," Marcus snorted, making reference to the useless seeker for the Cannons that still hadn't been dislodged. "There's a reason there's no female captain for a team not named the Harpies."

If she had half a brain, Katie would ignore his obvious goad and head back up to her room - he was smirking at her even as he finished his last statement. He didn't mean half the shite he was spewing, but he was doing it just to get her into the bloody pool. Katie might not be the most intuitive of people, but she wasn't that completely dense. Still, even with that knowledge running through her head, she was giving in. Narrowing her eyes, she stripped off the tank she wore, and shimmied out of her trousers - leaving her body clad in nothing but a serviceable sports bra and knickers. Sexy lingerie it wasn't, but for a moment she fancied Marcus' eyes lingered.

"You'll pay for an ignorant statement like that," Katie said, pointing her finger at him even as she strode towards the north end of the pool. Swimming towards the edge, he hefted himself out to stand beside her.

"Ready?" Marcus raised his eyebrows.

Not particularly, but the word, "Yes," was what came out of her mouth all the same.

He might not have instilled the indignation he was looking for, but she had her frustrations to fuel her. She also had the competition that was always inherent in her interactions with Marcus.

"Go." The word came from his mouth rather then hers.

They dove into the pool with a synchronicity that would have made any diving team proud, firing into the water like the most power spell that could escape a wand.

Marcus made it the other end faster - his length far outstripped her, but with less bulk she managed to scramble out of the pool faster. Without a stumble she was down on the pool deck, flat on her hands, lifting herself up and down. She was well aware of Marcus beside her, doing the pushups almost in unison. Her arms barely felt the exertion, used to much worse. Then they were up, and diving back in, even as her foot scraped against the edge as she pushed quickly off.

The first few were easy.

Then she started to remember on a deeper level exactly why they were called suicides.

Her breathing became laboured, a burning in her chest she normally never felt. Her muscles felt like rubber, and like she was pushing against a resistance that wasn't there. Time seemed to slow down. As Katie scrambled out of the pool for another set of pushups on the fifteenth repetition, she could see Marcus out of the corner of her eye; she had high hopes the panting was from his mouth, but she was fairly certain it was escaping hers.

Back in the water it felt like she was treading water in an attempt to move forward, like her arms weren't even her own.

A few more, and Marcus' breathing matched her own, not that she had the presence of mind to pay too much attention to anything outside herself.

She didn't give though, not against him.

He certainly didn't, not against her.

After a number she'd lost count of, it was near impossible to get out. Katie lay half out of the pool, panting, as Marcus floundered out beside her. She'd have taken more pleasure in his downfall if she was in any better condition. She slapped at the deck, trying to pull herself the rest of the way out, but traction seemed beyond her.

"Give," Marcus practically ordered her, sprawled on the deck like a beached whale.

His words gave her a determination she hadn't found before. Pushing herself up it felt like every muscle was screaming, but she got onto the pool deck by seemingly sheer mental stimulation more than physical. "You give," she gasped, wishing she could just preferably die right about then.

It was an inevitability that he wasn't going to say it though, and neither was she. Not until one of them physically outperformed the other. Determined for reasons she couldn't quite name to show him she could do anything, that she didn't give up, Katie rolled over onto her stomach. Even as he watched her and panted, she slid her hands palm down under her body, and with a strength she wasn't sure she had she lifted herself up, lowered herself till her nose touched the ground, then pushed herself back up. "One," she said, with a triumph she normally reserved for the greatest feat.

Forcing herself through the motions yet again, she forced Marcus to get up and torture himself right along with her.

It didn't take long before they were both collapsed on the pool deck, unable to do so much as stumble over to the lounge chairs. Neither of them had won, and instead had just succumbed to mutual exhaustion.

Given the way she felt, and the way she knew she was going to feel in the morning, Katie was more than a little sure they had both lost overall by being ridiculously stupid enough to compete to exhaustion the way they had.

"Bell," Marcus began, but then fell silent.

She was too tired to care about speech. Talking right then felt like very hard work. "Talk. . . later. . . " Katie forced the words out, and let her eyes drift shut.

The wet sounds of him rolling around on the pool deck were heard as she lay there contentedly, but when she felt the warmth of another body beside her Katie's eyes snapped open to find Marcus hovering above her. "Listen there is something we've got to. . . " he began, and then broke off.

It wasn't apparently clear why speech seemed beyond him, but Katie found herself struck dumb as she looked into the eyes that were less than a foot from hers. There was the punch drunk sensation of absolute exhaustion, but it wasn't what kept her from making a smart arse remark, and it wasn't what made the pit of her stomach feel like it was dropping out. It was the proximity - the proximity to Marcus. She couldn't help it, but she was transfixed by the sight of his lips and her desire to press her mouth to his, and by the feeling of his nearly nude body beside hers. Desperately, she tried to break the spell, but his hand was sliding to the curve of her neck as he lowered his mouth to hers.

The kiss he gave her was far from gentle. It was a kiss born of all the tension that tended to build between them, and the need for sexual gratification that seemed to be building between them right then. It reflected every time she'd thought about this, even as he annoyed the bloody hell out of her. His lips and hips ground into her at the same time, and his weight was heavy along her length as he rolled on top of her, too tired as well to hold himself apart. Katie didn't even care because it felt glorious, and it felt so bloody right.

Something which scared her more in relation to Marcus Flint than most things in her life had scared her before.

Marcus shifted to the side, his hand sliding up to roughly palm her breasts through the sopping material of her sports bra, even as hers slid down to rest on his hips above the swimsuit - groaning against his mouth. It was so incredibly fast, and so incredibly public, but neither of those facts were registering in her mind as she arched her hips up, the tired nature fading from her mind as arousal built.

It was Marcus that pulled away, muttering a, "Fuck fuck fuck fuck," against her lips, even as he shifted the rest of his body from her.

"I'd like to," Katie said almost crossly, letting her hand rest weakly against his chest.

A rough bark of laughter escaped before he rolled away entirely, separating them completely. Bereft of his warmth, she felt cold, and reality started intruding though her mind had been keeping it at bay. Self conscious, she fumbled for her wand that lay near, murmuring a drying charm though she didn't think she could manage transfiguring clothes or dressing just yet.

Marcus seemed to be hesitating, which wasn't like him, but then the words came out in his usual blunt nature.

"You're not going to make the team," he offered the words without mincing or sugar coating.

Sometimes you could feel like you got kicked in the gut without so much as a physical touch.

It wasn't only the reality of his statement which shocked her. It did, of course it did, but it was nothing that she hadn't been expecting. It was the way that it was delivered, it was the way that he told her like this - on a night when he'd called her down no less. It made the previous all too short seconds of physical intimacy feel wrong somehow, even if in truth there was no way they were interconnected. Katie knew on some level she felt betrayal, even if it was entirely ridiculous. Completely and utterly ridiculous. What had she expected? That any kind of increased intimacy between them was going to change the reality. She would have died if that had been the case.

Logic though didn't play a part in a gut reaction, much as she wished it would.

Quiet dignity didn't always happen as much as she would like it to either. If she hadn't been snogging Marcus bloody Flint only moments before she could have managed it, but not then.

"I see," she said, forcing her shaking arms towards the clothes she'd shucked, trying to get up and stumble into them, "so tonight was about what exactly then? After all that was your pretense, wasn't it, getting me down here so that I could try and convince you? Was the attempt at a. . . a fuck, something for me to try and convince you otherwise. I guess my skills just aren't up to par then. I really should have. . . "

Marcus cut her off, frustrated, "Oh, shut the fuck up Bell." When her eyes widened, he had the decency to grimace slightly, but continued on all the same. "Don't be fucking ridiculous - you know that none of that shit had anything to do with Quidditch. I got you to come down here so that I could tell you, if you want to know the honest to fuck truth." His profanity increased with anger and frustration.

"I was going to tell you because that parchment was going to go up in a few days and in front of everybody and. . . ." he broke off again with a violent, "fuck! Listen, I didn't want you to find out in front of everybody else, okay? Struggling against tears or whatever."

"Oh, go to hell Marcus," Katie snapped, "I'm a big girl. I've been disappointed before and I will be again."

"Fucking Merlin, Bell, I was trying to be nice. Not that you would recognize nice if it bit you on the arse. Listen, you crazy bint, I didn't want to watch your disappointment like that - when you realized the dream was shot. I didn't want you to have to fake acceptance when you felt like you were dying inside. I was trying to do the right fucking thing here, with more consideration than we're giving anybody else. Would it kill you to not jump down my fucking throat?"

It took Katie until that to realize two things. The first one was she was being an unreasonable bitch, a reaction that was stemming out of her disappointment. The second was that Marcus. . .cared. On some level, be it friendship or whatever, he gave a shit about something outside of himself and Quidditch. That realization shocked her back into a more reasonable awareness, even if she didn't know what to do with the idea right then.

"I don't think I can say thank you to somebody who's basically telling me I'm substandard," Katie said finally with a sigh, but the anger was gone from her voice.

What she wanted to do was get into it more with him. She wanted to demand to know the details - who in team management would have been for her inclusion, and who was part of the much larger majority who wanted her gone. She wanted to know what reasons they would have cited, what her weaknesses were. It was easier when it could all be rationalized, and when it could all make sense. She didn't get into it with Marcus though for two separate reasons - he didn't deserve that, because none of the players got an aftermath, and because she had a feeling hearing the truth wasn't going to help. She probably had barely even come up in their discussions outside of being a quick addition to the rejection pile.

Marcus seemed to eye her warily, "The hissy fit done then?"

At the statement - Katie laughed, she couldn't help herself. "Yes, Marcus, the hissy fit is done. If you want to the honest to Merlin truth, you probably wouldn't have even got one if you hadn't offered the truth after you had your hand on my breasts. I wasn't kidding, I can take bad news." She hesitated, picturing the way she would have schooled her face into serenity when seeing the parchment with the cuts posted, and how hard it would have been - even if she had known what end was coming. Quidditch wasn't the sum total of her life, but that didn't mean she hadn't wanted to make the team. "That doesn't mean I'm not. . . grateful, in some respects for you telling me tonight all the same."

Offering a smile she knew didn't reach her eyes, Katie stood up to go.

Marcus snorted, "Fuck Bell, you look like your kitten just died." Apparently she wasn't as good at faking acceptance as she thought. At least when it came to him.

"What can I say," she said finally, "you were right. Probably best not to get bad news when you have to pretend to be all right with it. I'll practice, and get it right for when the list goes up. You won't have to look on my melancholy again." It's what she'd done too when she hadn't been given Gryffindor captainship. She'd gone over in her head all the reasons why it was the right decision, and why she was okay with it, and when she'd seen Harry for the first time she could give real acceptance rather than just the disappointed fake acceptance that had come in the first instant she'd heard the news.

It was tempting to get back down on the deck with Marcus again, and go back to five minutes before, when she was blissfully considering ending her much too long sexual dry spell and thinking about little else.

"Listen Bell," he said, as she straightened her clothes, "I'm fucking awful with comfort. I could probably manage some comfort sex though."

She didn't know whether to take his offer as lecherous, as pathetic, as a pity fuck, as. . . whatever, but instead Katie chose to be slightly touched by the awkward way he had offered it. It was true that it was probably the only way he knew how to offer empathy, and she took it the way he'd probably intended it.

"Thanks, but no thanks," she said, fighting against a very tired smile.

Without another word Katie started to walk away, leaving him still exhausted on the pool deck. Her own limbs ached, even as her spirits were slightly trampled. She might not have a reason to perform admirably the next day, but she was going to go out strong all the same. Pride wouldn't let her do otherwise. Then she would go home, get back to her life, and be satisfied.

As she reached the edge of the pool confines she paused, hesitated, and then turned back.

"Marcus," Katie she offered the words with no small amount of hesitation. One didn't do admittance to Marcus, but she knew if she walked away they were going to forget what had happened, no matter how much desire was capable between them. "I. . . might not be looking for comfort sex, but maybe sometime when there aren't prying Quidditch eyes on us and what hotel room you come out of I might be looking for something. . . else."

He rolled his eyes, "Fuck, I don't do the virginal and hesitant thing. Unless you actually are a. . . " She glared, and he broke off, "Fine you're a veritable slag. But listen, I don't do the double talk that you birds seem to excel at. Just come out and say whatever the fuck it is you're trying to say."

"I want to fuck you all right?" Katie normally didn't use crude words, but her annoyance at his methods had goaded her into it. Apparently there was a lot he could goad her into. At the smirk that crossed his face, it made her all the more annoyed, but it didn't really decrease the truth of the sentiment. Marcus was. . . .Marcus, and she actually thought she might be able to accept him for what he was. "Did that feed your ego enough for the night?"

After that she really did turn to go, but she could hear Marcus' words carry back to her.

"If it needs to be said, I want to fuck you too. Creatively, and often."

Katie rolled her eyes as she finally entered the hotel, even as a new sort of wetness seeped into her knickers at the thought. Anybody else she probably would have taken offense, and would have hexed them six ways from Sunday for something so blatant and tasteless when they weren't even. . . involved, dating, whatever circumstances people normally had.

However Marcus Flint being Marcus Flint, it was almost a veritable declaration of love.

[identity profile] 2009-06-28 08:25 am (UTC)(link)
That build-up was HOT. I love the dialogue, and the sexual tension that you wrote without a hint of forcedness. The competition had little obvious ogling going on, yet throughout the suicides I could totally feel the tension building, almost like the act of sex itself. If that makes sense?
ext_23449: Book addict icon (ootp join this comm)

[identity profile] 2009-06-28 06:15 pm (UTC)(link)
It makes sense :) Especially since I was indeed trying to use the suicides to build the tension, ha. Thank you <3, I'm really glad that you enjoyed it. I admit even though I find it rather hard to write these two, I do enjoy writiing their dialogue when I can find something for them to say.

[identity profile] 2009-06-28 06:56 pm (UTC)(link)
WOW! Intense moment between Katie and Marcus; although, it did lead-up to quite a scene.

Thoroughly enjoyed reading it, a lot.
ext_23449: Book addict icon (snitch please)

[identity profile] 2009-06-28 08:16 pm (UTC)(link)
Thank you so much :) I'm really glad that you enjoyed it!

[identity profile] 2009-06-28 07:12 pm (UTC)(link)
That was actually cute.. by Marcus standards of course. Go you!
ext_23449: Book addict icon (save a broom)

[identity profile] 2009-06-28 08:17 pm (UTC)(link)
Ha, definitely a good description. This is as fluffy as I can picture him getting. Thank you for commenting, I'm really glad you enjoyed it :)
the_rainbow_jen: (Default)

[personal profile] the_rainbow_jen 2009-06-29 02:30 am (UTC)(link)
Oddly, I'm rather enamored of your Marcus. He's abrasive, rude, and egotistical. And yet far more honest than you'd expect. He and Katie make a good match, I'd say, given their own standards of behavior are about equal.

And a midnight swim race! How wonderfully original! :)
ext_23449: Book addict icon (blank screen)

[identity profile] 2009-06-29 02:46 am (UTC)(link)
I honestly admit I struggle with writing him in any sort of 'pairing'. I like to try and give him some redeeming value instead of just being an ass.

And well, ha - the midnight swim race isn't all that original. I've seen a swimming race before, and when I asked for prompts when this was kicking my butt someone prompted me with nighttime swim. These two didn't exactly seem the two for a romantic moonlight dip so...this came out instead.

Thanks for reading Jen :) <3

[identity profile] 2009-06-29 11:29 pm (UTC)(link)
This was AWESOME! WOW! Loved it!!!
ext_23449: Book addict icon (save a broom)

[identity profile] 2009-06-30 01:54 am (UTC)(link)
Thank you so much for reading, I'm really glad you enjoyed it :) And just let me say a ha! to your icon.


[identity profile] 2009-07-02 11:21 pm (UTC)(link)
You just HAVE to do a sequel for this O_O
ext_23449: Book addict icon (save a broom)

Re: *glomps*

[identity profile] 2009-07-03 04:20 am (UTC)(link)
Ha, I have to say this is one I can pretty mcuh safely say there will be no sequel too - but thank you so much for reading and liking it, and wanting to read more of it ! :)

Re: *glomps*

[identity profile] 2009-07-03 02:13 pm (UTC)(link)
Aww..Sad day!

[identity profile] 2009-07-03 02:54 am (UTC)(link)
This story has been rec'ed at
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ext_23449: Book addict icon (spock choke a bitch)

[identity profile] 2009-07-03 04:21 am (UTC)(link)
Thank you!

[identity profile] 2009-07-03 04:28 am (UTC)(link)
That was fantastic! I loved it!
ext_23449: Book addict icon (livejournal love hp)

[identity profile] 2009-07-03 04:35 am (UTC)(link)
Thank you, I'm glad you enjoyed it :)

[identity profile] 2009-07-28 03:33 am (UTC)(link)
I just have to say that I love this line "If it needs to be said, I want to fuck you too. Creatively, and often." Very enjoyable story and I love the interaction between Katie and Marcus!
ext_23449: Book addict icon (save a broom)

[identity profile] 2009-08-03 10:57 pm (UTC)(link)
Thank you so much! I figured that's about as close to "I wuff you" as these two could possibly get, especially like this :) I'm glad you enjoyed their interaction, because their banter can be oddly fun to try and get!

[identity profile] 2009-08-22 09:40 pm (UTC)(link)
Wonderful chemistry, here, as well as a really interesting dynamic between the two. In addition, I love your explorations into the Old Boys Club of Quidditch. Great job!
ext_23449: Book addict icon (scarecrow hi)

[identity profile] 2009-08-23 05:08 am (UTC)(link)
Thank you so much for reading! What can I say, I can't picture Katie and Marcus having the stereotypical relationship dynamic. I also abuse Quidditch as a plot device, ha - even though I know not everybody goes for that.

[identity profile] 2009-09-02 08:44 pm (UTC)(link)
Awesome fic. Loved the bluntness. Very refreshing from the usual Marcus-is-really-a-sweet-boy-not-a-bastard fic. Thanks!