WHO: Martin Boot & Nicole Bardera
WHAT: :[ but then :]
WHERE: Outside the locker rooms.
WHEN: November '78
RATING: NC-17
Martin Jack Boot wasn't good at a lot of things. He wasn't smart like Noah or Noel. He couldn't draw or sing or act. He couldn't dance. But if there was one thing that he was good at it, it was Quidditch. He was a damn a good Beater. And he knew it, too. His attention deficit tendencies gave way to a startling display of focus and intensity when he was out there on the pitch, the rough-housing pranks he played during practices notwithstanding. However, it was a rare sight indeed to see him completely detatched from the game, even when he was goofing around and pissing Nick, Flint and Finn off.
He supposed he certainly deserved the strange looks he was getting from the rest of the team. He'd let the bludger by twice, and had even gotten nailed with it once himself, too trapped in his own thoughts to hear Flint's shout of warning until it was too late. He had a painful circular bruise from where the bloody thing had crashed into his side, effectively knocking the wind right out of him. Practice had ended shortly after that, and MArtin was only too happy to trudge off to the locker room, strangely quiet as he showered and changed. Slinging his jacket on over his teeshirt, he slammed his locker shut, the sound thundering through the now-deserted room... everyone else had already gone. Running one large hand down his face, Martin sighed and made his way for the door, noticeably favoring his injured side as he leaned into the door and exited the building.
And came face to face with Nick, who, by the looks of things, was just leaving herself.
Looking up at her beneath the still-damp ringlets of his hair, he nodded wordlessly at her and made to move past her, not really in the mood for their typical banter. He couldn't even muster up the strength to hit on her tonight. This whole thing... it was just hard. Afterall, his being a big-quidditch star was what had made his parents a target for those robbers. No other house in the neighborhood had been hit... Merlin, he just needed to go home and have a drink. Or two. Or ten.
Everyone had noticed the way Martin had been acting during practice, and Nick was no exception to that. Their star beater (as the quidditch mags went about calling him), who was always completely attuned to his game, who was up in the stratosphere with his stats, who hardly ever let the bludger by... was just not their star beater anymore. Without a doubt, that day's practice had been the worst that the United had seen in a long time, and it all had to do with the fact that Martin Boot was just not himself anymore.
It wasn't like she could blame him--fuck, if it had been her parents that'd gotten robbed and murdered, well, she probably would have been the same way. But that didn't make it any easier to watch him trudge around in a daze, fumble and miss hits she could have made on the pitch, completely humorless and miserable. Hell, don't ask her how, but she even kind of lamented the absense of his habitual morning remark on her arse. It just wasn't the same with him like this, and it wasn't just him suffering, but it was the team, too. As much as she didn't want to admit it... watching him, she was suffering too.
Her head shot up as she heard the adjacent door creak open upon her exit from the locker rooms, and Nick watched him disinterestedly acknowledge her presence. Okay, no, this was not right at all. This had to stop.
Thinking quickly, the blonde jogged up and intercepted her teammate before he could wander too far. "Hey, wait up, Boot," she called, coming up beside him. "I want to talk to you."
He stopped to glance over his shoulder at her as she approached, brows drawing down low over his eyes... This was weird. Nick hardly ever wanted to talk to him, as far as he could tell; since she'd joined the team, the only interaction they'd had was when they were fighting. Well, except for that one time at the bar. But even that had ended disasterously. And now here she was chasing after him. Martin normally would have pounced on the opportunity to tease her about this face, but... he just wasn't up for it.
Slipping his hands down into his pockets, he regarded her with a confused frown and nodded at her as she came up alongside him. "Uhh... sure. What's up?"
She stopped as she caught up to him and for a moment looked around to make sure that they were the only two people left on the pitch. As if she were about to say something shocking that she'd die having anyone eavesdrop on--and honestly, she was, in a sense. Nicole would have rather killed herself than put up with all the teasing of the rest of the team that was sure to come if they overheard anything even resembling worry come out of her mouth in relation to Boot.
"Actually, that's what I was going to ask you," she said once she was satisfied that their surroundings were deserted. "I know you're dealing with... ah, everything, and all, but you're acting like a bloody zombie. It's hurting the team, Boot, you've got to snap out of it."
Okay, so that didn't come out as sensitive as she would have liked, but bloody hell it was hard to do with him. All in all, Nick commended herself on doing a decent job--at least she hadn't yelled.
He blinked, watching as Nick glanced nervously around as though she was about to share the world's biggest secret. He should have known that sooner or later someone was going to confront him about his behavior... he couldn't even remember the last time he played so badly. But nothing could have prepared him for the anger that was very suddenly burning its way through his body as the result of her words. His entire frame seemed to tense as she continued to reprimanded him, and when he looked back at her his already-chisled features seemed completely made of stone.
"You have no idea what I'm dealing with," he whispered suddenly, barely letting her finish her sentence. His voice was little more than a growl, the depths of his dark eyes smoldering with frustration and pain. He drew his lips into a thin like and forced himself to look away from her for a few moments, taking a deep shuddering breath to try and compose himself. He shook his head and finally looked back at her, a small, humorless chuckle betraying him. "But it's always about the game with you, right Bardera? All about the team. Well excuse me, but right now I don't give a shit about any of that."
So she wasn't totally taken aback by the fact that it was angry, moreso how angry he was. That quiet but fierce tone was a deep warning--and then he tried to get a hold of himself, she noticed, but Merlin did he fail, and for reasons completely unknown to her, his words elicited a slight wince out of her. For someone that prided herself on being able to take just as well as she could give (and she gave pretty harshly sometimes), Martin sure had caught her by surprise.
It was nothing but sheer defensiveness, the only emotional survival mechanism she knew, that formed the fire that was the base for her heated tone. "Look, it's not just about the fucking game, Boot--you're a fucking wreck and everyone can see it. Regardless of what you've gone through, you can't just bloody walk around not giving a shit like this, because you're fucking ruining yourself," she replied, the volume of her voice trying hard to stay even and failing miserably.
"I'm not just going to let you wallow forever, forget that shit happens and life goes on, and become some miserable, humorless, bitter arse that lives in a state of depression all the time. It's exactly the fuck what you're being, and I can't bloody stand it, so fucking cut it out." Yeah, well, you couldn't try for sensitive all the time.
Her words were doing nothing to help ease his anger. If anything, they were feeding it, causing it to grow, threatening to consume him. He was trembling by the time she was done, his hands removed from his pockets and curled into fists so tight his knuckles had turned white. Nick was lucky that he didn't hit girls, because if he did she would have been knocked out about five minutes ago. His lip curled into a snarl as he fired back with his own arsenal.
"Cut it out!? It's been three days." He held up three fingers, throwing them in her face while his breathing picked up and his face flushed red. "Three days since they died! My parents are dead! Dead because some miserable fuck knew that I was their son! Someone came into their house and killed them because they were the parents of some fucking big-shot Quidditch star. And I was the one who found them. They were gone, Nick!"
He was doing nothing to contain the volume of his voice, and it was at this point that his voice cracked and the familiar, unwelcome burn of tears rose in the back of his throat. But he wouldn't. Not in front of her. When he found his voice again it was gruff, choked with the effort of containing them. "I think I have the right to be a wreck. Fuck you, Nicole."
Again and again and again and again, each syllable was like another stab in her chest and she had no idea what to do because she didn't want to say what she wanted to say, but then it was bubbling over and threatening more than ever to burst forth and shit, what was wrong with her? This didn't happen, even if she had gotten worked up, even if she had had some screaming match with him like this, she had sworn that she would never admit a thing to him, she--
"Well it hurts, Martin, alright? It hurts to see you like this because even if you don't give a shit, I do!" The second it was out of her mouth, it seemed like a weight lifted off her shoulders and--out with it, she just wanted to be out with it. Unfortunately, the flow of words her mind was producing were strangled by the unfamiliar feeling of a sob in her throat; she fought through it the best she could, trying, like him, to not let that sob break free.
"It's been three days? Alright, it's been three days, but three days is too long to watch you beat up on yourself, just---just die, I mean, you act fucking dead and I don't know what to do about it but scream at you for it, I don't know how to handle you like this and I just want it to quit!"
Fuck, she was going to regret this all even more in the morning, she could tell.
He froze then, her confession serving to knock the very air from his lungs and momentarily stall his anger. The sudden loss of both of these things left him feeling dizzy and cold, his tear-rimmed eyes going so wide that the whites were viseable around the cocoa-hued irises. She was... crying. He'd never seen her cry. Ever. He actually didn't think she was capable of it. And yet here she was... and she was crying for him.
When he finally regained himself, the fire and pain came roaring back all at once, along with something else. Something... different.
"I want it to quit too," he seethed. "I don't know how to do this, Nick! I just... I don't..."
A frustrated growl tore from his throat and then he was advancing on her, hands extended to pull her suddenly against him as his mouth came crashing down on hers. There was a wordless desperation in the way his fingers clutched her as his lips claimed hers, not even caring if she decided to go through with her favorite threat and just take his knee out.
It all happened so fast, there were so many emotions fighting back and forth in her brain that she didn't even have time to think about how fucking insane this all was. She didn't have time to care whether or not this was something that he was going to use against her later--no, she knew he wouldn't because this wasn't normal, this felt real and even if it didn't, she knew she would have still been grabbing back at him, kissing him, holding onto him just as tightly as he held onto her.
There was no thought of smacking him, of threatening him, of punching his lights out--there was no time for it now. Her lips responded to his instantaneously and without a glance back or regret for what she was doing because oh Merlin did this feel good. She knew she should have felt more guilty for thinking that, but again, no time, no time for anything but him and for grabbing him closer to her. Her fingers clenched together around the material of his robes and her mouth worked against his, lips parting to allow him whatever he wanted to take of her because he needed this... and she wanted it.
He had honestly been expecting some kind of refusal, a slap to the face or a knee to the groin, or maybe just a disgusted gagging noise and more harsh, venomous words. But this... this caught him off guard. And when she clung to him with the same intensity with which he was holding her and kissed him back, he was helpless to stop the low moan that was quickly muffled into the kiss.
Bringing one hand up to cup the back of her neck, he took her wordless invitation to heart and deepened their already-bruising lip lock, his tongue grazing her bottom lip before tangling with hers. As his tongue explored the recesses of her mouth, he began to push her back, maneuvering until her back was against the side of the building, trapping her between it and himself. Finally he broke for air, gasping, his eyes dark and glazed as they met hers. "Nick..." The single syllable was little more than a groan. Yes, he needed this... but he wanted her.
To tell the truth, Nicole had been expecting to be a lot more embarrassed right now than she was. No matter how much she had liked it and the circumstances surrounding it, she had still been snogging Martin Boot, she was still so wedged against a wall and his body that each breath he took pushed in on her chest, he was still saying her name and looking at her like that. But she wasn't. To her surprise, in place of the embarrassment and nervousness there was a strong wave of longing--for more of him, for more of this. She wanted to keep holding onto him and just kiss him and never stop again.
Her breathing was still quick and labored long moments afterwards and it was like a heavy fog had set over her mind the way that she couldn't think of what to say to him. What did you say to that? Part of her wanted to ask what that was, but she knew already, had always known. Maybe she hadn't always known she'd known, but it had been somewhere buried in there. The crushing power of the realization of this hidden fantasy had left her speechless. Well, not quite, but everything she could think of sounded so painfully stupid--maybe it had just been too long since she had felt this good.
"I--" she began, but stopped herself mid-consonant--and then thought again. Well, if she was going to sound like an idiot, she was going to sound like an idiot. "Please don't... ask me to explain that," she breathed out finally.
He watched as these thoughts played themselves across her face, his labored breathing gusting hotly against her cheek as he lowered his forehead to rest it against hers. It seemed like an eternity before she finally spoke, and when she did... well... she didn't say much of anything. But she hadn't objected. Using the hand at the back of her head, he urged her to tilt it to the side, giving him access to kiss and nip his way across the slope of her jaw and down her throat.
"I won't," was his response, barely audible as the hand that had been grasping her waist slid down a ways, the pad of his thumb sweeping up to lightly brush the skin just above the top of her pants, tracing along her hip bone beneath the fabric of her shirt. A deep, almost primal rumble sounded from his chest before he reluctantly straightened once again, keeping himself all but flush against her. "We should... probably go someplace." His fingers were still playing along her hip, tracing idle patterns there. He could have very easily stayed there up against the wall all night, but doubted Nick would have been a fan of the idea. "If... if you want."
"Yeah, no, I--let's..." she answered quickly, nodding into his shoulder. In all honesty, here would have been fine were they not a pair of world-class celebrities. They would have known better than most that no matter how alone you thought you were, there was always the chance you weren't. More often than not, there was someone peeking around corners that could wreak disaster in the tabloids doing just that. But where would they.. "Locker rooms?"
They were the closest thing she could think of at the time, and on top of that they were warded about twenty-six times over. Having crazy papparazzi following you everywhere at least lended itself to having the best security money could buy.
She didn't really wait for an answer from Martin one way or the other, because now that she thought about it, this was a very dangerous game they were playing, standing around here. She knew that they needed to move, but it was with great reluctance and willpower that Nick pulled out of her snug position. She felt a wave of cold wash over her instantly, but it made her reach out for his hand and latch onto it quickly as she pulled him after her back the way they had come.
Nick didn't surprise herself in the least with the manner in which she threw open the door to the locker rooms and used his shirt to pull him hard against her in a fierce kiss. The way she tugged him over onto one of the benches and placed herself on his lap, wrapping her legs around his waist, not missing a single beat. What was there really left to be surprised over anymore anyway?
Martin barely had time to wrap his mind around what she was saying before she had pulled away from him, slipping out from in between his body and the building. He instinctively reached for her once again, wanting to pull her back against him and not let go because Merlin she felt good and warm and soft, he didn't think Nick would be so soft because she was always such a---
But now was not the time or the place to think about that. THat was irrelevant. And that was not the same Nick that was currently leading him by the hand back into the women's locker room, not the same woman who was grabbing him and kissing him until he thought he'd drown in her. He found he didn't really object to the idea.
He allowed himself to be tugged by the front of his shirt, stumbling, fumbling as his mouth ravaged hers and his hands went down to her hips, grabbing them and pulling them up against his until he found himself shoved insistently down onto the bench. He took a quick intake of breath, a hiss of discomfort as this jarred his wounded side, but the minute she straddled him all thoughts of anything else dissapeared.
His fingers were once again on her, running up her thighs, up under her shirt to trail along her spine, reaching up between her shoulderblades to push her further against him. And then he was removing her shirt, no longer pausing to inquire if this was alright because it was obvious what they both wanted. Breaking their kiss to pull it up over her head, he tossed it carelessly behind him as his eyes drank her in. "Fucking beautiful," he mumbled truthfully, and then his palms and lips were exploring every new exposed bit of skin, starting with her collarbones and starting a very deliberate downward trail, his breathing growing ragged.
It could have been because it had been so long since she had cared enough about someone to put herself in this kind of situation that this felt so bloody amazing... But Nick was rather sure that it had a lot less to do with that and a lot more to do with the man underneath her right now.
A strange, elated feeling caused her heart to skip at his words, because fuck, how long had she wanted to hear that from someone and had it be real like that? This was what it was that was making her so crazy about him--this Martin wasn't just shamelessly, meaninglessly flirting and calling her cute or whatnot. This Martin was sincere, he meant what he said, he made her feel amazing rather than harassed and--
--a soft hiss escaped her lips as his mouth worked its way down her chest, stomach--his hot breath on her skin was sending shivers up and down her spine. Her neck arched back and she moaned and the fingers of both hands tangled themselves through blonde curls. Instinctively, her pelvis hitched up against his and she almost went breathless at the sensation. This was the best feeling ever, he was the best feeling ever, sweet Merlin---
Both hands spasmed, tightening their hold around her slender waist as her hips bucked suddenly against his, pushing her down into his lap to deepen the contact. He let out a broken gasp against the flat plain of her stomach as the sensation rocked him to the foundations of his being, his arousal quite evident against her now. Merlin, what was this girl doing to him?! He, unlike she, was quite in the habit of doing things like this. Willing girls were always easy to come by for Martin, afterall. But this... this was... Gods, he didn't know. It was unfamiliar and almost frightening in its intensity but he'd already decided that he was willing to lose himself to it completely.
The digits of his right hand slid up once again, expertly unfastening the clasp of her bra before he lifted his head to watch the garment fall away. He captured her breasts as they fell free of their restraints, waisting no time before lowering his lips to one, his tongue extending to taste and guide its tip into his mouth while his fingers tended to the other lest it be neglected.
It wasn't until he had worked both breasts to excited peaks that he looked up at her again, shifting underneath her and grinding upwards again. "We need to get those off," he moaned throatily, and gesturing to her pants, he stood up effortlessly with her still wrapped around him and set her down, quickly setting about unfastening whatever buttons or zippers that dared to interfere between him and her.
"'S're in the way too," she mumbled almost incoherently, but when her hands raced down to blindly but effectively unfastedn and push off his jeans. Hey--just because she hadn't done this in a while didn't mean she'd forgotten how.
Their arms tangled between them as they both attempted to perform the same task, and so Nicole used other methods instead to push his pants off him. One ankle unlocked from the other and she latched her toes under the offending fabric's hem--and not just that, but another, much more offensive garment at the same time. Using her hold on his clothing, she pushed both pieces over the curve of his arse and down the rest of the way until they dropped onto the floor with a soft sound. Her leg was now free to wrap itself around his, and she trailed her foot up and down his calf, the back of his knee, and back down again as lightly as she could in all this passion.
"Fuck--" she said, half a groan, half a whisper, as she felt the rest of her own clothes finally fall off her. She breathed heavily, her face buried in Martin's neck. "I need you--"
He was all too eager to step out of the puddle of clothing that was now gathered around his ankles, pausing a brief moment to carefully remove his shirt before turning his focus back to the very beautiful and very nude (Oh Gods) woman standing not even an inch from him; he could feel the warmth radiating from her without even touching her. But then she said those three words: I need you, and he couldn't wait another minute. He lifted her once more, guiding her long legs around his waist as he turned to press her up against the lockers.
He kissed her again, hungry and eager, as he positioned himself against her, moving the crook of his elbow beneath one of her knees while his other arm was wrapped securely around her for support. He hesitated long enough to meet her eye before he pushed up into her, slowly working until his full length was fully inside of her; he remained there for a few moments to allow the both of them to adjust, a grunt working out past clenched teeth, his fingers digging into the flesh at the small of her back almost painfully.
"Gods, Nicole..." The words were strained as he slowly began to move, starting off slow before building a rythm, fucking her right there against the women's lockers.
The moment she felt him fully inside of her, a moan escaped her lips, a little louder than before but fuck if she could help it. This felt so good, so unbelievably good... One of her arms latched around his shoulders to help hold herself against him while the other's hand ran up and down his arm, almost with the rhythm they were creating. Right up there, against the lockers, at the United's pitch--oi, this was so messed up, why was she enjoying it so much?
"Unnngh," she groaned, and her face went into his neck to muffle the sound. She placed several kisses on his neck, running her teeth along his skin there, and then down his throat, then up the other side of his neck. She had to stop herself, though, lest she bite down and hurt him, because at this point, each thrust, each time their bodies met--Merlin, it was threatening to send her over the edge.
He hissed, a sharp intake of breath taken against her shoulder as her teeth scraped over the sensitive areas of his neck. Even while it was happening Martin just... couldn't believe it. But then, he couldn't exactly form a coherent thought right now, either. All he knew was that he was in a locker room with his team-mate wrapped around his hips, and that every noise they made from Nick's groaning (he rolled his hips just to ellicit another from her) to the way her hips banged back into the locker was intensified and echoing loudly around them.
He wasn't sure how long it continued. Time seemed to stop altogether. But finally he reached up and grabbed at the back of her head, tangling his large hand into her honey colored hair and kissing her fiercely as a familiar pressure built within his stomach, building with every thrust into her. He broke the kiss with a deep, gutteral moan and presed his face into the hollow of her neck, gasping, his arms squeezing her against him as he came, his legs very nearly going out from underneath him as he pressed his weight against her for support. "Fuck," he wheezed, eyes screwed tightly shut, sweat matting his curly hair to his brow.
The cold of metal behind her as she was pushed harder than ever into the lockers was a stark contrast to the overwhelming heat they shared between them. Nick was sure that her nails were going to leave marks on the skin of his back from the way that her fingertips dug into him when she came, just a split second after he did. She moaned, then gasped with the feelings that were coursing through her body--it was the best she'd ever felt, and the strength of it shook her down to the very core.
As was always bound to happen, though, the feeling ebbed much more quickly than she would have liked, and it left her futilely reaching out and wanting more. With one last shudder, it was gone and they were left in the reality of what this was--two teammates, two very naked teammates, panting, sweating, and wrapped around each other, slumped against a locker. Nicole opened her eyes to the reality of it all and... holy fuck, she was insane.
There was--Martin Boot? And how had this even happened, she didn't remember at all anything in between him kissing her outside and then these last few minutes, and she really would have liked to know how her life did this major emotional 180 in the span of, what, fifteen minutes? She was insane.
Finally regaining some semblance of normalcy in her breathing and body heat (and state of mind, apparently), Nicole loosened her grip on Martin, gently pushing him back and getting to her own--albeit wobbly--feet. She was almost scared to, but after a long moment of contemplation, she dared to glance up into his eyes, catch his gaze. This was crazy, crazy--and even crazier yet, she let only a single moment of this lapse before she couldn't help herself, and rose up to kiss him again, this time lightly, gently.
He stepped back as Nick unentwined herself from around him, the sudden loss of her body heat sending a tremor through his body. His breathing was slowing, returning to normal as he leaned forward and pressed one arm against the locker she'd just been up against, resting his forehead against his wrist as the realization of what had just occurred struck him. This was insane.
Very slowly he opened his eyes, letting them roll to their corners to acknowlege her, half-expecting her to start throwing some kind of a fit, muttering and yelling like she had the last time he'd told her they'd slept together after the victory party. Rolling his tongue nervously across his bottom lip, he straightened and twisted to face her entirely, all too aware of the fact that both of them were very naked. So very... very... naked.
But Nicole didn't yell. And she didn't hit him. Instead, she kissed him. And it wasn't like the other kisses they'd shared so far. It wasn't a frantic attempt to devour and consume... Instead, it was a gentle brush of her mouth against his, and he could only stare at her, his jaw going slightly slack, his face a mask of stunned confusion when she drew away again.
What did that mean!?
He ran a hand through his disheveled locks, which of course only resulted in having them stand up at even stranger angles, and turned, dropping himself down unceremoniously on the bench once again, one arm wrapped around his middle. Glancing back up at her, he tilted his head and caught her gaze again, a contemplative frown creasing his brow before he extended a hand out to her and pulled her to him, wrapping his muscular arms around her and resting his head against her stomach.
"...can we do this everytime we fight...?" was his drowsy inquiry.
