The Stag and The Harpy | James Potter

Relax

{{MATURE!}}

"Is that your wand in your pocket?"

James laughs at the familiar joke, his head slumping forward to rest on her collarbone. Her own giggles vibrate up through her body, against his until he's laughing more.

This intimacy, the laughter and jokes and snarky comments and arguments. This intimacy, this bond, had only grown since the birth of Harry. They were two halves, a team. And Phoebe cherished it like nothing else. She cherished her husband. She absolutely adored him.

And she couldn't deny how bloody fit he was either.

James lifts his head, offering her a cheeky smile that reminds her of pranks and train cars and kissing him senseless in the abandoned corridors of Hogwarts. That smile. Merlin, she'd do anything to bottle up the way that smile made her feel. She was invincible, weightless, when James Potter smiled at her like that.

His lips twitch, morphing into a soft smirk as if he feels both smug and embarrassed by the awe filled look he's receiving from the Veela. But she was in awe of him. How he made the darkness go away. How he so easily had her forgetting that she was trapped here.

Because with him, she was free.

Phoebe swallows past the lump in her throat, lifts her hands to slowly run through his hair. Her heart rattles against her chest, beating rampantly when James nuzzles into her hand, twists his head to kiss her palm.

He grabs her wrist, presses a kiss to the inside of her arm, presses another to her shoulder, steals her lips for a far too quick kiss before he mumbles, "I love you. Bloody hell, I love you more than I think is possible."

Phoebe smiles shyly, slings her tingling arms around his shoulders and nudges him with her hip. He grins at the hint, doing as she silently asks and flipping over so that she can straddle his waist.

She leans over him, her hands resting on either side of his head. She can't resist kissing him, pecking his lips once, twice...again. Again. Again. She kisses him until he's groaning impatiently, each time their lips meeting for longer, slower caresses that leave her dizzy.

Leaning back with a sigh, she brushes her thumbs over his furrowed brow and pouting lips. Phoebe smiles wryly, whispering, "I didn't think I had enough love in me for you and Harry both. Rather foolish of me. You'd think I'd have learned enough about feelings by now."

James chuckles, his chest rumbling with pleasure when she presses her lips to his throat. He grabs her waist and gives it a squeeze as he replies, "You're doing a good job. Learning about feelings I mean."

His words are stuttered, breathing labored as her mouth brands the skin above his heart. His eyes flutter shut, throat working on swallowing just as her lips skate down his stomach.

Phoebe hums appreciatively, teasing lightly, "What else am I good at, James?"

His Adam's apple bobs as he sucks in air, Phoebe's mouth sliding to his hip. She nips at his tanned skin, mouth already watering at the thought of hearing his moans. She just barely dips her fingers under his briefs when he replies with a strained voice, "Phoebe..."

"Tell me what I'm good at," She whispers, chest eagerly expanding with her inhale. Merlin, he made her forget to breathe. She blinks up at his face twisted in anticipation, continuing softly, "Go on, James. Tell me."

If the roles were reversed, James would have teased her until she said it. Until she said just how good his tongue made her feel. If the roles were reversed, he would torture her by making her say it. But the tightness of his expression, the strained lines around his eyes have her thinking better of teasing. Instead, she smiles triumphantly at the quiet curse he mumbles when she tugs off his briefs and presses a kiss to his thigh.