Waldosia/// George Weasley

Chapter 12

"When I kissed you, you kissed back," he breathily spoke again, "Why?"

She looked away from him, her cheeks blushing while doing so. But he needed her stare, he needed to keep the thought away. So, he used his hands to guide her face back towards his. "Why?"

"I needed to get out of my own head," she sighed out, looking at George guiltily, "Like you said, thoughts are killers. A-and you were there and you kissed me and I know it was selfish of me to kiss back, but I really just needed a distract-,"

His thumb trailed over her jawline until it rested upon her lips. George needed his thoughts to stop, he needed her talking to stop. Her breath against his skin was sending his mind to another place, one far away from thinking about Fred. And, it drove him absolutely wild.

"Fuck, j-just stop talking. It's not your fault it was mine, I kissed you. I just...I," he stuttered, not knowing what to say. It meant nothing to neither of them, so why was it so hard to get the words out of his mouth?

His hands fell down to her waist and pulled her on top of him abruptly, wanting everything to just stop for a little bit. Clover's breath hitched as he brought her chest up against his. "I just need...,"

Some people were meant to thrive in the sun, soaking in the feeling of light on their skin. Others were meant to thrive in the rain, the grey clouds feeding their grey souls. But then there was Clover, who thrived in chaotic, soul-sucking storms, the disorder of it all make her feel more alive than she ever has. And George was the most chaotic storms of them all; she was hooked.

"Let me kiss you again," George's voice rasped into her ear.

As his words bounced around the room, floods of everything that had happened from today rushed into her head. Everything that she needed a distraction from. Everything that she wanted nothing to do with. Everything that caused her nightmares and pain and suffering. And suddenly, she knew that everything was the exact opposite of what she wanted right now. Clover wanted nothing; she wanted nothing that would mean everything.

Her lips were a breath away from George's, both of their eyes lustfully locked onto each others lips. But, she pulled away slightly and whispered, "Tell me this will mean nothing in the morning."

George inhaled her words. His thoughts ran from Fred to Angelina to Clover and then back to the pair of lips in front of him. He couldn't help but think that's exactly what he wanted. Nothing.

He brought his head into the crook of her neck and sucked on a soft piece of her skin, before pulling back and looking her directly in the eyes, "Nothing."

She thunderously crashed her lips onto his, their bodies moving against each other as their tongues met. George hungrily moved his mouth with hers as she brought her hands up to his hair. A desirable groan slipped from his lips as she lightly tugged the ginger hair on his head.

His mouth moved lower, leaving a trail of rough kisses across her jawline and down her neck. She held in a moan as he reached the area of sensitive skin just above her collarbone, but lost all sense of control as his teeth grazed the area.

"Fuck, George," she threw her head back and involuntarily bucked her clothed hips against his.

His hands wandered down until they were firmly grasping her arse and helped moved her hips in a fluid motion against his groin. She grabbed at the hem of her shirt and quickly pulled it over her head, and just for a second George's motions stopped. His eyes looked onto her body hungrily as Clover smirked.

"Like what you see, Georgie boy?" She teased him at the same time she ground down into him.

A string of curses escaped his lips as he moved his hips up towards hers. Instead of replying, he simply shook his head and formed a smirk of his own. George stood up, holding her up around his torso, and walked towards his bed room.