chase-the...
New Member
You're so pitiful, like you're so beautiful
Posts: 13
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Post by chase-the... on Aug 14, 2013 2:34:24 GMT -6
Quidditch was just a sport, to some.
There was a haze of camera smoke fuming in the air as the flashes ignited in a frenzy of piranha hunger. Bodies pressed against each other with aggression, strangling out the screams of adoration from the crowd. The security moved sombrely around the team of players as they looked onward to the fiasco that had developed. Fans were pressed against the barrier behind the media, holding up signs of support and chanting their pleas of eternal love. The press looked famished for the new team, their cameras and recorders at the ready, sitting on the edge of their seats with anticipation. It was feeding time, or rather known in the business as 'fame'. At the end of this whole orchestra was the master himself, Robert 'Big Bob' Bennett. He smiled into the crowd of people with a shark's grin and beady eyes. He was slick and that wasn't just talking about his hair. All the biggest newspapers were here for the announcement. They were going to be featured in Sports Weekly, The Quibbler, The Daily Prophet, Quidditch Stars and the most coveted magazine of them all, QuidChoice. The Wimbourne Wasps were mere seconds from eternal glory, glamour and fame. He was proud. This year was their year; it had to be. He had scavengered and stolen the best chasers from the world. Ling Fae, just in his prime. Camilla Beauffon, the surprise and his crowning ruby, Jax Hades. They were going to be Quidditch greats. The best chaser trio in centuries. If only they got all their shit together.
Quidditch to others, was a lifestyle.
He was deaf, blind and drunk. It wasn't even noon yet, but he had a bottle in his hand and he couldn't even see straight anymore. He couldn't taste the liquid burning down his throat. He couldn't feel the hot flashes of the lights against his skin or hear the screams in his ear. He was a mess, just seconds before what would be the greatest moment in the Wimbourne Wasps's lifetime. He didn't care. He was Jax Hades and he could do whatever he liked. He was a celebrity. They expected it. He was like an one-trick pony, a contestant in a beauty competition. The man with the fantasy life, the fictitious lies he portrayed were as empty as the bottle he had consumed. It was just a waste of time. He wanted to be away from the media, hiding in his apartment with some brandy whore and drinking. He wasn't an alcoholic, however. It just came along with the fame. Just like the sex, the drugs and the rumours. That was the lifestyle of Quidditch. Glory marketed in an one for all package, discounted. This is what he signed up for when he entered the sport all those years ago. Somewhere in the fine print, this was all that he was promised. A hollow life of isolation and fiction. A life of the very best and the very fake. A life of screaming, of drinking, of one night encounters and seeing his dirty laundry in the papers. He was the star and although, he despise it all sometimes; he played his role and he became their national treasure.
Drowning his sorrows with last drops of gin, he hid behind the security guard. His blue eyes hidden away with sunglasses and his head down as he moved in formation. He didn't even bother to check out the competition this year. Chasers had come and gone with the Wasps but Bob had been so goddamn perky about these two. Honestly, whoever the fuck they were, they were like mouldy old bread in the buttcrack of the Mexican cleaner's couch. He was the rockstar and he knew it. He didn't worry about them. He couldn't be bothered to even make friendly with them. Tomorrow, at the first practice for the year, he would encounter who they really were on the field. But for now, they were just nobodies. The media, after all, was here for Jax Hades. He passed the bottle to the security, slipped out to be in the spotlight and gave the crowd a wave. Dressed in the Wasps uniform, pristine clean and leaving something to the imagination, he smiled. It was his show. The fans responded with faints and screams. They pushed against each other, hungry and clawing. The girls all jumping up and down, waving their banners just so that he would notice. The press clapped at the team, their cameras burning with heat as photo after photo were taken. Eventually, they reached the platform and stopped in front of the head table. Each player smiling and waving, proudly showing off their uniforms and playing into center stage. Once the compulsory group photos were taken, they all sat down at the table and looked out into the crowd.
There had to be thousands of people here. The fans wearing the Wasp's colours, nearly dying from just sighting the players but the journalists were level-headed and cool. Bob, on the other hand, was smirking like a git. He tapped the microphone in front of him, conducting himself with strength as he announced the team, like they were some kind of car commercial.
"Let's hear it for the Wimbourne Wasps."
A string of synchronized screams followed.
"We have the strongest team in centuries! We'll be the ones to watch for on the field this year. Of course, for her second year, Captain and Keeper, Rhea South."
"I would just like to say ---"
"Moving on. Our fourth year with the fastest seeker who broke the sound barrier, Annamarie Cote"
"It has been ---
"The beaters with no relation, except in the way that they play. Rhett and Kegan O'Connor. The best bet around!
"Serious--
"But I know who you all really came here to see!
The crowds screams got louder.
Ling Fae!
Bob looked at Ling briefly, encouraging him to say something to the media, but just like the others, he cut him off mid-sentence.
Questions later, folks. We also have Camilla Beauffon!
Again, he cue for her to speak but cut her off like the others.
Lastly the man who needs no introduction
Oh my god, it's Ja-- Oh Jax, I love ---. Have my bab--- Jax, sign my shir-- Jax, do you rem--.
"Yes, Jax Hades, the best thing to happen to sport." Jax finished Bob's introduction with a spiteful Brazilian drawl.
Bennett laughed and brushed it off, sitting on his high horse and feed into the buzz of the attention. His ego growing by the second, shadowing that of a watermelon. He glanced around at the media with desire and then released the frenzy. What followed for the next couple of hours was questions after questions. Each player became the spotlight of the show. The media craving answers to trivial questions about the sport, or their personal lives. The new chasers getting pushed through their paces, under more intensity. Some of the questions were pointless politeness, but every now and then, something scandalous was asked. Jax barely survived by issuing his standard never fail answers. He had been numb throughout the whole interview, repeating his answers like a record player and seeming uninterested in the whole spectacle. He had done this for the Wasps for three years, being promoted and shoved around like a piece of meat. His charming smile had graced a dozen magazines, he had been the feature of some of the worst gossip and he had been the centerfold of Sports Hunks for two years running. This was the life he had paid for, not just with talent, but with his blood.
Quidditch was all he was good at.
Interviews. Photo sessions. Media Coverage. The rest of his day was packed with all the useless crap that the Wasp's manager felt was essential. He barely got anytime to sneak in another drink or cigarette or some kind of drug just to comatose him throughout the entire afternoon. It would end eventually and he could fade away back into his solitude, being a nobody for a few hours, before he was requested to put on his mask. But for now, it was a parade. All the compulsory events happened and Bob quickly reminded them of their other duties. Tonight would be the exclusive, invite only, hottest Wizarding sporting party, this year. He reminded them with his deep voice and serious eyes that they all best be on their good behaviour. The journalist from the Daily Prophet would be there and they had practise tomorrow. In other words, it meant no bad publicity.
_______
He fiddled with the golden letter pressed invite, glancing into the shadowy reflection of the man he was. The hero, the rockstar and the villain. The man everybody wanted to know, to be and to be around. He paid for his dues and punishment with a crippling heaviness of loneliness. His wife wouldn't look him in the eyes anymore. Not that he was sure why he was still married to the old hag, but he still continued to stagger through this charade. It was a requirement. His only portrayal. He wasn't Jax Hades, married, 28 year old on his way to the slaughterhouse. The man guaranteed to be replaced once his new contract expired in five years. He was the Jax Hades, soon to be Quidditch legend. The people in his life just temporary creatures; ones that clinged to momentary fame. It was all an illusive plot, a magician's trick, just like the supposed secrecy of tonight's party. Once again orchestrated by the manager, tonight was just for appearances. It was just for all those who were important, famous or influential. It was invite only and the location was not disclose to anybody. Only one journalist had been welcomed. This was a party for the rich and the wild, where they could let loose. It was a night where he could dive deeper into his façade, forgetting his bitterness and lose his inhabitations. He played with his wedding ring as he adjusted his outfit again. His hand ran down his denim jacket, pulling straight the white collar shirt before he tucked his hands in his jeans pockets. He was very casual and very normal for someone famous. With his brunette hair slicked back, he looked like everyone else and that was the point.
He pocketed the invite, kissed his wife goodbye and spat out the taste of her lipstick before leaving his apartment. He wasn't disturbed as he walked down the hallway into the streets of the night life. The air filled with drunken spoils and laughter, the rowdy behaviour of those watching the Bulgarian's most recent Quidditch match. Sports was the blood of the Wizarding veins. He walked without anyone saying his name or screaming at him. It was the first time he knew what it would be like to be just the same as everyone else. He was a nothing. He had no breasts pressed into his face, no autographs to do or photos to take. He was absent and he liked it. His joys for the normality lasted a few fading seconds before his more repulsive instincts kicked in. He wanted to be in the center of the traffic stream, not in the bicycle lane. Often this lead to his worst addiction - not the prostitutes, or the drinking or the drugs but the only mistress of his heart. Crime. He wanted to be famous, even for the wrong reasons, and being so normal made him twitch. He didn't like being unnoticed. Ever since he was 20, he had been in the spotlight. It was unnatural for him to be living away from it. The anxiety passed as he ducked into an alleyway, rummaged his jacket and found some kind of medication. He didn't know what it was, but he took it. He needed something, just to survive until he was at the party.
The lights of the town led him astray at first, or maybe it was the drug he had taken. But he felt confusion as he entered a darkened loft entrance. He rode up in silence in the elevator, and reached the top floor. Once the rusty gates open, an explosion of glitter warped into his face. Hundreds of fairy lights were tackled to the ceiling. A bouncer next to a velvet rope, just a few steps from the elevator. The red carpet leading like a snake down the hall. The walls vibrating with the sound of laughter and music. It was a party alright. He approached the bouncer and smiled. The bulging man didn't look impressed and ignored him, waving in some lady behind him, scantily clothed in pink. Jax gave her body a good appreciative look before he cleared his throat.
"Jax Hades."
The bouncer rolled his eyes.
"Third one for the night, I see. Nice try buddy. No invite, no entrance."
Jax didn't even flinched. Of course, with a party as exclusive as this, everyone wanted to be a part of it. He fished out his invite and threw it in the bouncer's face before casually walking his way pass the velvet rope. The bouncer looked slightly outrage, shrugged and fell into his solider position. Feeling already intoxicated, Jax strolled down the hall, staring at the moving patterns on the carpet. As he came around the corner, there was a wide open space where people lingered in the arch way. Their hands filled with drinks as they gossiped. The party was spilling into the hall. The confetti sprinkled on the ground just like some of the already drunk woman. He smiled as he shook himself back into his usual act. He passed the woman on the right of the archway with a smile. She smiled back and he knew he had her like that. He came a bit closer, said hello and then took advantage of the situation. Before she had time to ingested what had happened, Jax had pressed her against the archway, his lips on hers and her drink in his hand which he finished once they stopped kissing. He walked away, feeling a little better now he had consumed some kind of toxin. Woman or alcohol a like.
The room was semi-crowded, with still movement and not too claustrophobic. There must had been only two hundred people who made the exclusive list. Champagne was getting passed around, music was blaring in his ears and he spotted two very good things. The open bar and his team mates, dressed for the occasion. He avoided Bob on his way to the bar and sat down, ordering his first drinks for the night. The bar tender was quick to deliver and Jax was quick to drink. He must had taken at least five drinks before he was approached. The woman dressed in black, hair down in tight curls and lips red as the devil. She smiled at him with malicious intention, drink curled in her sweaty palms as she whispered her name sweetly. She sat beside him, indulging Jax in frivolous attention. This woman knew everything about him, but he didn't care. What could he really expect? He finally gave into the alcohol and his impulsions. He stood up, took her hand and led her into a darkened corner of the party. He hurriedly pushed her against a wall, moving in a familiar way like he had done this a hundred times before and raced his lips against her neck. She did all the things she probably every dreamed about. After all, she was seducing 'The Jax Hades'. Fumbling with his pants and her dress, he took her for a brief indulgent moment.
Then there was a flash.
"I see you haven't change, Mr Hades."
The woman screamed at the sudden interruption, but he finished when he was good and ready. Even being so spiteful as to pose for a couple of photos. The woman hid her face in embarrassment and scampered away as he tucked himself back into his pants, before looking over to the one who had interrupted them.
"Miss Kingsley, see you have nothing better to do but stalk me."
"Ha, you wish, Mr Hades. What page would you like this little indiscretion on this time?
He moved closer to the Asian woman, camera around her neck. The press, the only one of the night. A woman he had too many encounters with over the years. He was her favourite victim and she always liked to put him in the center of her life. He knew her terrible secret, but their relationship worked. It had its benefits.
"The first page."
He pressed his face near inches from hers, and she leaned in, drinking in his sweat and sex and fame. He smirked, knowing he had the upper hand. She seemed dazed and then pulled out of it, shaking her head and moving away from him. He watched as the woman dart back into the crowd, before being snatched by Bob. That damn little infuriating woman; the buzzard that fed on his rotten corpse. He sighed at the missed opportunity and went on the hunt from more alcohol. The night's fun had just begun. He was going to be on his very best behaviour, after all. There was nothing he could do wrong. He was a celebrity. This was the world of Quidditch. It was all expected.
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Post by FAE_. on Aug 14, 2013 9:13:25 GMT -6
Red wine, cheap perfume, and a filthy pout.
The incredible, edible, insatiable.
There was a certain preparedness that came with such fame, and the 23 year old Asian certainly had it. As a gay male in a bustling and ever-changing world, Ling Fae was more than a stickler for looking his finest when in the public eye. Obscure in every other area of life except for the art of transfiguration, the young man known simply as 'FAE' had made quite the name in the sport of Quidditch. For the first four years of his career after being the Ravenclaw golden boy, Fae had spent time with the prestigious Toyohashi Tengu out of the J-League. Competition there was of no match to Fae or his teammates, becoming boring as they dominated opponent week in and week out. It was then that 'golden boy' Fae decided to embark on a journey back to the English country. It was a particularly painful place to be... Many sick and ever-twisting memories of a love he once had. A love that blossomed in Hogwarts, fell apart in the outer wizarding world, only to be reborn at a later point in his blossoming career just to hit another rough patch. He did love the man, indeed he did, but love was becoming of a lesser meaning in every waning moment. Off of that, though.
'The incredible Fae' had ventured back to England to play professionally for the Appleby Arrows, a place of personality troubles around every point of the team. Everyone wanted to be the star, everyone thought they were the star. It had been an adventure to say the least, but anyone who could so speak to Fae knew that it was not an adventure he enjoyed. Their rivalry games with the Wimbourne Wasps, a struggling team of bumbling idiots, were the only sources of any real pleasure for the boy. He had formed a bit of an unsaid rivalry with their top scorer, although the other was unaware of it's existence, but he came up short in the goal scoring for the first time in his life. Appleby had finished above Wimbourne although neither won the League Cup, but in the back of his head it was eating at him like parasite that he was 'second best'. Even as he done the red and white (and occasionally blue) for Japan, there was still a lingering hunger to be better. To snatch his title from him and be the true victory. With all the other demons in the mind and mannerisms of one Mr. Ling Fae, he hardly needed more...
Good luck getting him to listen. _________
The crisp black uniform with glaring yellow stripes, a wasp painted around his right eye for intimidation purposes, and his jet-black hair sculpted into a perfectly messy faux hawk. To say that Mr. Fae had dressed specifically for the occasion would be the understatement of the century. As they had all been asked he arrived in his Wasps sporting robes, but the rest of his look had been optional. Ling, as early mentioned, was a prideful and sporty kind of fellow. The face painting had been a relatively new thing, something he started with the rivalry as an Arrow last year. Oh yes. The irony of the situation at hand was that Ling, of whom felt so competitive with 'The Jax Hades', would now be working alongside him in one of the biggest signing deals to hit to world of quidditch. The deal that was heard all over the world of quidditch, strung together by the notoriously sleezy Bob Bennett and his boozing politics... Quite the interesting web had been woven. Ling Fae was snatched from the reach of the Arrows just before he signed a deal with the devils of Appleby, and so too was Camilla Beauffon. Camilla was a girl that Ling knew well, specifically from her years as a Slytherin chaser in his years at Hogwarts. She equaled his height at 6'0", and she was also able to equal him in looks. Camilla was a vain and cruel French girl who never seemed to care about anything more than how perky her boobs looked on any given day, not shy about adjusting her bosom when the men (and women) would stop and stare. Going back to her sporting qualifications now. She was one of few that could catch him and at times out-do him, and she had been able to continue that trend while playing for the Holyhead Harpies, a squad of ferociously skilled girls. Only girls. There were many a joke made about Holyhead and the teams' sex appeal, the catchiest nickname being 'The Holyhead Herpes'.
Ling wasn't responsible for that. Not at all? Well maybe just a little bit...
Ling had dealt with a lot of publicity in his life, both good and bad, but the publicity he was faced with in this moment was that of which he had never seen. Even the 'sex in public' scandal on a tour of the Americas with his lover boy hadn't equaled the publicity he was now facing. The new look Wimbourne Wasps were all in a line of seven, technically eight if you counted the sleeze bag Bennett, which Ling did not. Their uniforms were pressed to perfection as they clung tightly to the bodies within them, each player 'rocking' their own look or personality trait as the media became more frenzied. The three storied chasers were in the front, with golden boy Jax Hades leading them all and followed by Camilla. Ling had spent enough time looking at the long plait of hair dancing down Camillas' back, but all in the same he didn't care to look at the crowd. Vultures they were, dying and clinging to some sort of need for attention. Acknowledgment. Ling acknowledged them when it mattered, turning and offering his best smile, or his best scowl as the camera called for the teams' attention. Between Ling and Camilla, there would certainly be enough 'entertaining shots'. If Camilla wasn't selling her tits like candy to the camera, she was whipping her hair and spinning like a mad woman, doing her best to find the 'Camilla' lighting. Of course, Ling didn't mind. No, as a gay man he had became quite used to the woman around him offering themselves like sacrifices to the camera, somehow hoping that the army of good-looking gay men would somehow diminish and all turn straight. It was comical, yet attractive. Ling was never the type to fuck women or to even have such feelings, but watching the women around him craving after he and 'his people' was enough to make life worth living.
As the players took their seats, the head of Bob Bennett again started to swell. Full of himself, happy with his acquiring of Ling and Camilla, he ate up as much of the spotlight as a bumbling buffoon could. The introductions that he gave the players were more poor than his integrity level, but none of them seem bothered by it. Well, except for Camilla. Sucking her teeth and offering a glare the way of Bob, Ling couldn't help but let out a small chuckle. He knew Camilla and he knew she wouldn't forget this, keeping in the back of his mind a certain hex the girl had perfected while at Hogwarts. Dangerous more were her looks, but not to be overlooked or ignored was the fact that she was a Slytherin. The dark lord was long gone, but the troubles that came out of Slytherin house were not... Same old story, different timeline if you will. Slytherin students and graduates alike were not treated any better than they were in the past, if not more poor, and the only exception to Camilla having better treating were her tits.
Excuse my french.
Adjusting to the night's fame was more than complicated, but a challenge that wasn't too terribly bad. As the media and leeches of the night began their outpouring of questions, there was finally silence from the seat of Bob 'douchelord' Bennett. Of course, that could also be accredited to the fact that the media was no longer envious of what he had to say, or the propositions he offered. It appeared even the media found the egotistically-driven troll to be a bore. Still driven with a love for her own breasts was Camilla, despite the constant stares from the males (and one of the other females), and still obsessed with asserting herself was Rhea. Rhea was an interesting case, someone that Ling did not know well. In the games he'd played against the Wasps, Rhea had been an absolute headcase. Then again, all keepers are in a sense. Hardest job on the pitch, right? Besides chaser. While she did a poor job of keeping the peace, she did an even worse job of keeping her goal well guarded. All the talent on the team, and she would be the question mark... The mental puzzle piece.
"My next question is for one of the newest chasers, Mr. Fae."
Ling had been deep in his own thoughts, offering first a scowl when hearing his name.
"Mr. Fae, what are you aiming to accomplish in your first year with Wimbourne? As a chaser that has seen great success with scoring and being head of the formation on your past teams, what comes to mind with all the discusses of you playing a lesser role? Word is that Camilla will have more scoring chances then you as well? How do you feel about that? With all your successes with Toyohashi and, more importantly the Japanese National Team, do you feel entitled to anything? Do you enjoy spending your cash on frivolous things? I have not seen your usual male fr--"
The wasp on Lings' face became animated, a small buzzing emerging as the wasp began moving its' stinger in a threatening way. You know, in the most threatening way possible for animated face paintings.
"Well that was a lot of questions," Ling smirked. "It's hard for me to fathom that you could ever think you would get the answer to half of those. I'm 23 years of age, but I am no fool. You appear to be baiting the new boy, no?" Ling cut eyes to Camilla and then to Jax, neither of which seemed to be paying close attention. It was soon after that Jax removed himself from the setting and disappeared. "As far as what I would like to accomplish, I think I would like to establish a closer relationship with my fellow chasers. I have played against Camilla and Jax several times, and if there are two chasers in this league or in this world that are better than myself then they are it. Absolutely incredible competition among friends on the squad, I would say."
"What about your lesser role, Mr. Fae? Are you prepared to take the backseat, so to speak?"
"I am prepared to do what it takes for the team." Ling pursed his lips, fighting the urge to hiss. "I have my accolades, I have my accomplishments. I took Toyohashi over the top in Japan and as far as playing for Japan, I have done the same for them as well. Everywhere that I have played I would like to think that I have done a good bit of 'work' in securing future successes for the squads I have worked with. I respect every person I have played with and still talk to my former teammates as if nothing happened. Well, except those at Appleby. Who would talk to them..."
There was a laughter from the crowd, following by a flurry of questions. Relentless, these people.
"Mr. Fae. Let me just say that it is an extreme honor to be sitting here with the chance to talk with you. I have followed you internationally, and have watched you cause many a Irish heartbreak in the World Cup. However, I would like to ask something of a more personal nature."
Ling didn't hold the hiss in this time, looking into the crowd. He couldn't find the face speaking to him, but the voice seemed familiar. Almost cynical, menacing. Before he could find the face he was looking for, the barrage of words continued.
"A year ago after a match, you were busted with a fellow player engaging in sexual activities. I believe you were caught just outside of the stadium, in the open for everyone to see. There are many children and families that come to these games, Mr. Fae... Is this the kind of behaving we can grow to expect from you? Are you going to be the 'face' of Wimbourne? How do you think Mr. Hades feels about the proposition of another sex symbol joining the team? Is he intimidated by your sexual, sadistic nature?"
"First off, I think we need to get some facts in line." Ling was holding back a smirk still, a dead silence across the crowd. All waiting, all baiting for answers more than the one beside them. Toxic people, they are. "He wasn't a player, he was a fan. A well en--... A fan. Someone that I have known for quite some time in my life. He likes public sex, and so do I." Ling looked to Camilla, who had a look of pure ecstasy on her face. She wanted to laugh Ling could tell, so he gave her a wink and moved forward with his shining moment. Standing, adjusting his robes, Ling gave the crowd one last glance before leaning into the microphone and hissing a few 'character' words.
"As far as the rest of your question, sir... I don't think anyone on this team will ever love cock as much as I do."
Silence.
"We're done here."
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Putting behind him the ecstasy and pleasure he had received in that last shining moment, Ling was quick to find the closest bathroom before entering the 'party loft'. Bathrooms can be fun, ask anyone. Stripping off his Wasps robes, hidden below was a neatly pressed suit of expensive taste, complete with a dragon skin bow tie. With a flick of his wand, the wasp painted from his face disappeared, and the beads of sweat that had accumulated on his face gone as well. It was a simple event, as simple as exclusive events can be anyways, but regardless Ling wanted to look his best. Better than the competition. As a gay male, Ling was tragically and utterly vain... Although not as much as Camilla perhaps. This particular suit and tie was something afforded for him by lover, the previously alluded to Smith Teddington. It had been a prize for being a good bottom and taking the group of cocks Teddington assembled for his own birthday sex craze. An odd gift to get one's self, but a gift nonetheless. It wasn't like Ling was going to turn down an opportunity for cock or fame, after all.
The distance from one event to another was of a relatively small distance, so Ling didn't bother with fancy travel. He had arrived in Wasps uniform, admittedly still seeking attention, but Camilla had done just the same. So far, the two were exhibiting a lot of the same traits. Now whether or not that stands true in the future, that's different, but a fondness for the busty bombshell was beginning to fester. Likewise, she too had changed into something of a more 'star quality' type of value. A sleek yellow dress, hugging every twist and turn of her body, squeezing her tits out of the top of her dress... Oh, and complete with yellow heels as well. Oh so she's got sex appeal, eh? They each gave a satisfactory headnod to the other, Ling giving his bow tie one last twist before heading for the door of the party with his busty new friend. The entrance was what any gay male could ever dream of. The red carpet, the thumping music, the laughter and chattering flooding out to where Ling and Camilla stood. Ling had to focus his eye on the daunting carpet that lay ahead of the pair, paying no attention the the whistles and stares that Camilla was getting for her dress and for her looks. He wasn't likely to get as many whistles or as many glances, as he was obviously male, but there was still a fair amount of attention paid to the detail to his outfit. The dragon skin debate had recently found it's own amount of light, with great protest and disgust being aimed at those that choose to wear it. Not that many do, but Ling? The Asian boy with all the style? Could give a shit less about dragons and the conservatives. All is fair in fashion for this man whore.
Man whore indeed.
"I 'ave never seen such beauty. This is such an interesting event. I 'ave only ever dreamed of this fame. 'olyhead was a nice place, but it was not as nice as this. Too much estrogen, too many... Boobs, as you say. I 'ave longed for a moment to shine like this one. I am finally "the 'ottest girl around. I feel nice."
"Yes Camilla. You are the oddest indeed." Ling smirked to himself and gave his busty partner a smile. She either didn't get the joke, or it took a lot to offend her. Ling would have fun with this one. "I find it hard to believe that you have never seen this type of fame, Camilla... Not internationally, at least? In Japan we are covered quite well. Not on the muggle news, but in the international sense. Even the Tengu were highly regarded. Lots of coverage, lots of interviews, lots of stalkers... Hey, second thought, maybe you're lucky to have not experienced such. It's a cruel word you'll grow to see Camilla. Eyes open at all time, frenchie."
"L-ing, you are forgetting something. I 'ave graduated from Sly'erin 'ouse. I will be fine." Camilla adjusted the plait of hair that flowed down her back, waving a wand over it and taking it from a braid to a long stream of perfectly straightened blonde hair to pour over her tanned shoulders. Annoying pretty bitch. "I like to get fucked like you do as well, mon ami."
Ling was readying for a response when the pairs bonding moment was interrupted.
"Good to see you again, Ling." A blonde man emerged from a group of chattering people, players from within the league no doubt, older than Ling or Camilla. Somewhere roughly in the same age range, however. "Don't tell me you've already forgotten who I am, Fae. That's just 'urtful."
A smiled pierced the lips of Ling, images flashing through his head. The man before him, dashing and blonde, was none other than 'the' Adonis Chaille. Adonis Chaille was yet another friend from the walls of Hogwarts, this time from the house of Slytherin. Much like Camilla, Adonis was a french-born student of whom's parents sent him out of the country for schooling. Ling and he had formed quite the rivalry through the last two years of Adonis's schooling, Adonis leaving the school a year before Lings' seventh year. He was also controversial in his own right, having been a french-born student that changed his loyalties in his sixth year to Bulgaria. Up to this point his action with Bulgaria was rare, but his stock was rising as he continued to show out for Ballycastle. Not to be forgotten, however, is the most crucial part of their relationship. The adult relationship they had, only months before.
Meet member #1 of the Teddington gangbang.
(In no other way, Ling had shown up for the 'event' in full costume. Cowboy hat, western vest, a mask that concealed just his eyes. Lone Rangers-inspired porn folks. Also worn was a set of assless chaps, and a sexual walk to the tune of a popular muggle musician. The men in the arrangement were already in the nude, but the gesture of which Ling took was appreciated. Especially by Adonis. The sexuality of one Mr. Adonis Chaille was a question that many asked, but Adonis had never fed into the questions and hysteria around him. He never hooked up on school grounds, he never snuck around. At Hogwarts, everything about him was quidditch. Lived it, slept it, every last breath was on the quidditch pitch. The friendship with Ling, and the rivalry as well, had merely consisted of words in their years together on opposing squads. Neither made an advancement on the other and neither talked sex, although it was brought up at times by others that Ling was a cock-loving fool. Even in those moments, there had been no display of emotion or erection from Adonis. He was a simple man, obsessed with the sport that was bound to kill him.
Of the men involved, the sex with Adonis had been the most tantalizing. Erotic. Besides Smith, Adonis was the one person that knew the ins and outs of Ling's body, seemingly without ever asking. The depth that he was able to reach within Ling, the passion and the aggression that he was able to display with his body against Ling's, all under the eyes of Smith. Ling longed for him in ways that he never longed for anyone, not even Smith at times. Smith had ownership and rights, and Ling had a love for him that was irreplaceable, but Adonis was able to give Ling the erotic ecstasy he has longed for. The drug, the sickness, the itch that takes over the body of a drug addict. That was Adonis and his cock, for Ling. Going so far as to fuck Ling into a stutter, pressing his head into the pillows and suffocating him at climax. The others had done well, sure, but the real prize of it all was Adonis. Adonis and Smith could have Ling, any day any place they desired.)
Anytime.
Any position.
"It has been a while, Adonis." Ling looked to Camilla, of whom had managed to get her hands on a strapping fellow of her own. "How are things at Ballycastle? I hope they're treating you well over in 'The Bat's Cave'. You've been doing well for them, I'm quite a fan of yo--.."
"Try not to be so predictable t'ere, Ling." There was a smirk from Adonis's end as well, beforing a flash of a smile. "I came to welcome you to the league. We do things differently 'ere, although you have been in the league for a year already. Not that Appleby is of any respect in this league. Wimbourne is a whole different team, but you know that. Myself and Ballycastle won't be making it easy on you guys this year, J'espère que vous savez."
Adonis acted as if he was about to walk away, but in two quick steps was in Ling's ear. This felt familiar, tempting. Ling could feel his blood pressure rising as his hands reached out and clasped the hips of Adonis in place. There was no pull-away from Adonis, but Ling could feel the eyes. He could feel the stares. This was meant to be his moment and his glory, the time to rise above all else and shine with his new team. New teammates. However, if Adonis was 'feeling froggy', Ling could go for a good cock-sucking fest. Invite your friends.
"Be on your best behavior. Tonight and for the season." Adonis flicked his tongue against the boys neck, biting down in a manner and of a strength that only a v a m p i r e would know of. "I wouldn't want to 'ave to fuck some sense into you... This time without an audience of your choice, but mine." Adonis gave Ling's ass a firm grab, pulling himself from the grasp of the Asian boy and stepping back to the circle of people he had previously emerged from.
"L-ing!" Ling had forgotten about Camilla, but she was still there. Despite the affections of her own toy for the night, she had apparently never pulled her eyes off of Ling and his business. "Sleeping with the 'allycastle enemy? I do not like him L-ing, I don't like 'im at all. A snake... A snake more than myself, a Sly'erin."
"It's not quite so easy, Camilla." Ling adjusted his tie and ruffled his hair in a fluster. "That boy? Adonis? He knows how to fuck... And a cock like that one is hard to let go."
Ling turned to walk away, but in his signature way offered a few last words.
"Literally hard to let go of that cock, Camilla."
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!news!
HUFFLEPUFF
Gimme your scandalous heart
Posts: 22
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Post by !news! on Aug 20, 2013 3:29:23 GMT -6
Parties were considered the foremost criteria of her journalistic life. Not that anyone would admit that. The Daily Prophet would never speak of such blasphemy. It was suppose to be a serious paper with thought-provoking and daring articles that paved the future of news. Sports was no exception, but Donna Kingsley dealt exclusively in scandal. It was her business and she was respected for it. Nobody opened the paper in the cold brisk Sunday mornings to read statistics and player's backgrounds. Her readers wanted to know all the lies and gossip that made up the hollow lives of the famous. She constructed her stories, spinning grandiose truths that would make anyone blush. They loved and adored her, clinging onto the remainders of the article's grains for a glimmer of hope. Donna Kingsley was the writer of sports. There was no one else and there could be no one else. Managers wanted her, demanded her and stretched her thin. They pulled her like a woollen doll, unravelling her strings from the inside. She spent her hours on the road, in hotel rooms with strangers and sleeping in towns with no names. Her legs spreaded, kisses given and information traded. Night after night, it was helium balloons, squeaky linoleum, horrendous food and if she was lucky; free alcohol. They lusted for her and revolted against her. One moment demanding her and then casting her aside. Donna was their life line. She was some kind of violent addiction into publicity they couldn't quit. The famous couldn't survive without her and she couldn't survive without them.
She wouldn't be anybody without fame. Donna Kingsley didn't want her own; she didn't need the whole 'baby daddy' incidents or marriage. The woman just wanted to share their sunshine for a second and feel the glorious light stream against her fragile body. If sports wasn't such a cult, she would have no career. She would spend her nights staring at the walls of her apartment, surrounded by the material memories of days past. She would grow old and vulnerable; she would become her own mother and seek a lover that would stay. She would become her own nightmare. Thanks to fans and their insane obsessions, one that she shared in exclusively, she could deal out her articles like drugs. She filled everyone's needs and her own. Most journalists were talked about in hatred, muttered in spite and often a lot of swearing was involved. The journalism field was a revolting, shark-infested pit of liars and attention seekers. The famous hated them, mistrusted them and she didn't get a different treatment. She had been spat on, she had been abused and she even been involved in one incident that resulted in an arrest. But now and then, she was loved like a hooker in the street. Men and women would leave their houses, turn to Donna for their needs to be fulfilled and boy, did she make them feel needed. Her articles could shape careers and crumble others. She had destroyed players with a sentence of her quill. She had signed someone's destiny for greatness and sent others to hell. She had made heroes out of every day players.
Out of all the magazines she wrote for, Quidditch was the favourite of all the Wizarding sports. There was no other cult like it. Players were treated like royalty and the fans were even crazier than others. They followed their teams like a religion, devoting Sundays like a catholic. They painted their faces, screamed their lungs and gave all their love to the men and women. They were gods and she was their creator. After the match, the players would crack open the sports section with baited breath and sighed in relief. She gave them approval as long as she got acceptance. Donna Kingsley was easily bribed and manipulated. She would confidently tell anyone that she was a slut. She was a shallow groupie that only slept with anyone famous. If you were not famous, you were nobody. The woman wouldn’t even acknowledge the space you occupied. So if you wanted worldwide recognition, it was key to stay on the good side of this journalist. Unlike the sharks of her field, she didn’t judge and pry. The woman wouldn’t seek out the information players didn’t want to give her. She waited like a patient owl. The famous came to her with their rumours and she published them. She didn’t backstab them and they didn’t hurt her. It was their payment. In exchange, she respected their privacy. Once she had permission, then she would abuse it and ruin them, but the players knew that was the risk involved. As a journalist, she was a foul human being, not even worth the respect she earned and yet they couldn’t quit her. They needed the cameras otherwise they wouldn’t be famous. Everyone knew it. That is how the industry worked.
Today would rely completely on these fundamentals. It wouldn’t be the exception.
Donna Kingsley was always on the move, with her job and with her house. She literally still lived in suitcases, moving apartments every three months. She quickly grew tired of routines and stability. Her gypsy nature served her career well, being able to drop complicated situations like trash. She broke hearts, headboards and player’s careers. The journalist was required to be a billion places at once, covering the biggest news in sports but only one thing was on the agenda. Today would be the biggest announcement to come out of the Quidditch world in awhile. The new chasers of the Wimbourne Wasps. It was her fault or blessing that she had convinced everyone Rhea South was the most useless captain of the entire history of the Wasp’s surge to fame. She had made the woman cry with her bitter words. But heck, the bitch needed motivation. Rhea was a head case. She missed easy goals, she had bad tactics and she had led the team to a consistent losing streak for last two years. Their only redeeming quality had been the unbelievably fast chaser, Jax Hades. Donna’s favourite and treasure. They had an unusual relationship. He was her obsession, simply because he was the resurrected body of fame. The journalist had made his name. She felt responsible for his identity like a mother for a child, like a wife for a husband. It was hard to think of a time before this creature had entered her life. He had been her obsession since his stunt in the Chudley Canons. He made a name of himself, improving them and with the scratching of her quill; The Daily Prophet was behind Jax Hades 100%. He was hot property. She crafted his career, sent it straight into stardom. Without her, he would unappreciated and without him, she would be invisible.
It was that article written what felt like a hundred years ago that launched her career and the famous people’s addiction to her. At 20, Donna Kingsley who was on the cusp on redundancy, became a reporter and the paper promoted her to head writer with that piece. That was the start of their somewhat tragic lustful and abusive relationship. His every moment, every move was given to her by his own hands. She took the photos of his two day drug induced lover escapade. His wife’s breasts were in the front page of the Daily Prophet, with the bold headline announcing their marriage. She was there when he announced his contract to the Wasps and she sealed his fate by reporting he would save the team. Every chaser became envious of him, in direct competition with the best scorer there could ever be. His cheating was published by her. His drinking rage and bar fights were her work. His every mistake making a name in the papers and Jax’s fans adored him for his all too human qualities. She built his facade. It was only expected she would become too involved, too needy of what he could give her. It was only a matter of time before she would stalk him. The woman craved him. Of course her desires were shallow and she knew in another time, in another life, if he was nothing, she wouldn’t want him like she did. But it was there like a fire, burning her alive with a sensational hunger. She ached for him with such pain; it was like knives tearing at her flesh, separating bones from muscles. Passion surged through her veins, filling every inch of her stature with yearning. Donna was greedy with lust for him. It almost felt like love, or what she imagined it to be. Her nights became his nights and her hours were spent simply watching him. Jax Hades had unknowingly become her centre, keeping her from tilting off. She took advantage of his privacy, hunting his motions with her camera lens. With the click of her fingers, she had negatives of every second of his life. When he took a breath, she was there. She filled empty boxes with his face and body. She needed him, for a brief moment and then she would be done. The worst thing to this obsession is he knew. He wouldn’t admit it, but he knew she stalked him and he wouldn’t give in. He would make her watch and film him, fondling with other woman’s parts. He would let her taste their skin and lips, but he wouldn’t touch her. He dared not kiss her. Donna Kingsley was the only woman he hadn’t slept with. Something of accomplishment for Jax Hades and it drove her crazy. She needed the sex and then she could be done with him. Her dreaded sickness could be over.
But no matter what situation, he wouldn’t have her. It was the first time she ever felt like an actual whore. Not surprisingly, Donna had her own scandal. Papers had reported on her sexual feats and the players she had been involved with. She was a marriage wrecker. She had ruined some players lives more than their careers, but she hadn't of cared. She loved who she was and what she could be. Donna played the part of mistress well. She liked sex, especially with famous people and she couldn’t give a fuck what anyone said about it. No one would judge her for she wouldn’t let it get to her, but Jax had crawled into her skin and made her dirty. He played her weaknesses and she exposed his. Their relationship became a sort of agreement. He threw her every bone, letting on her chew on the meat and tear him to pieces. His name would be published; good or bad news alike and he would continue to be somebody. He needed her because he wanted to stay in the spotlight. He refused to be forgotten. Donna could tell this. He was on his way to retirement and soon Jax Hades would be nothing. When those days dawned, even the lowly journalist wouldn’t want him. She felt taunted. He wouldn’t give her cure until he was a corpse in the history of sport. By then, he would be useless to everyone. Until that day, she was starving dog.
Which is honestly an improvement, considering Robert Bennett was worst and she was stuck talking to him. It was out of obligation. For without the greaser, she wouldn’t be at this invite-only party. Of course, Donna Kinglsey had been the first journalist to know about the whole press release. She even had to play the part of snitch, leaking information about the players to other journalists. The event would become frenzied thanks to their combined efforts. So it was no surprise that it had worked that afternoon. Every paper was there, notebooks at a ready but she still got the exclusive scoop. She got to interview Jax Hades privately after the press release. That had gone as well as expected. He made very little comments about the other chasers; the fresh face Frenchie, Camilla and the gay, I-like-to-have-public-sex, Ling Fae. She didn’t care for Ling. She didn’t like the threat he posed to Jax’s career. The Asian boy was good, but he was careless and reckless. Plus as insufferable and judgement as it sounds, he was gay. He was useless to her. His fame was as invalid as turd. Ling Fae was no use to her, and with her power and influence, she would shape him the way she wanted. The chaser would be in Jax’s shade, in competition with him, always losing out. She would make him feel useless. Donna Kingsley could do that. She reported the truth and the chaser’s fate would be decided tomorrow at the first practice of the year. Of course, Donna would be there. Bob Bennett had hired her from the Daily Prophet for the next couple of months to cover the entire Wasp’s movements up until their first game. She would be only the journalist with the access. No one else would see the team until the match. The woman would be involved in every waking moment of the team’s life. She would witness the monsters they could be and manipulate them into all-stars. She would make them gods.
It's not like she hadn't done it before.
Donna Kinglsey abused her power. There was no other journalist in the Quidditch field that had destroyed so many careers. Ling Fae would not be immune, simply because he had been someone in Japan. In Britain, he was nobody. Jax Hades had been the Sports Hunk for two years in a running, thanks to her presidential influence and soon, he would be player of the year. She would ensure that Fae wouldn't even get to taste that kind of glory. It was Hellfire Hades' year. It was the Wasp's year for fame, no matter how useless their captain was. Robert Bennett had paid his price and she guaranteed that no one would talk about anything else. No other teams would exist in the lead up to the Quidditch Cup, and even if they lost, everyone would think of them as heroes, rescuing people's lives from their bouts of depression. Not that they would lose, no would even think that was possible after she was finished. The Wimbourne Wasps would become invincible. Donna could do that with a few simple words. No one would notice and no one would stop her. She was a damn V.I.P. Donna got behind all the red tape, behind all the security and into the tour buses. It got the woman front row seats to the drama and it got her up and close with her favourite obsession.
Fame; which was in no short supply at tonight's party.
The whole event screamed publicity buy-off, which amused her considering there were no other magazines here. It was all an illusion constructed to make the papers jealous of her, of the Daily Prophet. It was a trick to belittle famous people across the globe. It was Bob Bennett's giant fuck you to the entire Quidditch sporting world. He wanted to be seen as the leader of this fiasco, shoving in everyone's face who doubted him. The man had been something of a joke in the business. Donna had documented his downfall and uprising very well. As a manager, Bennett was the last person you wanted. He had run some of the best Quidditch teams into an early retirement. But this was his year and this party was the very beginning of his resurrection. Everything about the night spoke that clearly. The less than two hundred guests including some high-end Ministers, other competing players, socialites and a few fans. These people were the type to spread rumours and gossip, turn others green with envy. No one in this room could keep a secret. She knew that well, but she also knew that is exactly what Bennett had intended.
But it didn't make listening to him any easier.
She yawned, breathing a frustrated sigh between her lips as she pretended to be interested. Bennett was speaking in a hurried pace, rambling about all the good he had done. He was talking about Ling Fae who was a coma himself. Who gave a damn? There was no short supply of gay wannabe Quidditch freaks out there, trying to make some kind of stupid politic standing. Donna had seen it before; the whole 'If I can play sports and be gay, you can too'. Sports had lost its meaning. It wasn't supposed to be some kind of support system for mentally sick patients. Sports shouldn't even have a platform in her opinion. The whole charities and benefit for the Wizarding community was just bullshit. Sports was about injuries, about the back-breaking tackles and the absolute devastation when a player was pulled for the year. Sports was aggression, not wholesome. It was not humble. It was selfish and greedy. Bennett talked about Rhea and Annamarie which prompted her to roll her eyes in annoyance. The seeker wasn't bad, but she was completely oversold in Bob's little car commercial at the press release. The woman had only managed to break the sound barrier once, which had automatically resulted in injury. Donna had been in the hospital room with her so she knew it well. The infuriating man spoke about the beaters which Donna had no interest other than those of a sexual nature. She had been involved with both, at the same time, more than once. As players, they had their own cult following. He seemed to save his biggest speech for Camilla, barely giving Jax a mention. His lips trembled and Donna made a mental note to explore his own sexual lust for her. There was no doubt that Miss Beauffon had been chosen for different assets.
Not that Bob had a chance in hell with the chaser.
Donna Kingsley tried her best to amuse him, taking the git's smirking pictures and writing down his comments in her notepad. It wasn't too soon before she felt a need to escape away from the man. The cold was nipping at her exposed arms, ruffling at her heavy brunette curls as she stood outside on the balcony with the manager. The beating heart of the bass vibrating on the glass. The city light's colliding with night's sky, the stars twinkling with the fairy lights wrapped around barrier's ledge. The woman was missing out on the party and therefore, all the drama. She had arrived at the event especially early to get all the formalities out of the way. She had prayed that the sweaty little man would get his ego boosting done in twenty minutes but the seconds had ticked away. Donna could swear by the time Bob Bennett would gain his breath to ramble again, she would be frozen solid. Her feet ached in the all too small black heels that she had borrowed from one of her colleagues. She hated the shoes. They were uncomfortable, but they stretched her small 5"4 stature those few inches taller, which meant she didn't have to stare at Bob's jiggling belly all night. The journalist suppose she could give him credit for trying, unlike herself. Apart from the heels, the first impression Donna left was a distinctly forgettable one. She didn't even look like she was a part of this party. She didn't look famous, glamorous, important or even like a journalist. Donna Kingsley looked like a mess.
The Asian woman was dressed as a slob, if that was the best description for it. Her slender body, with limited curves was covered in a two times too big black shirt. A logo of some Muggle rock band, Slipknot slashed across it. The edges of the shirt tucked into her tight jeans, hugging her thighs and a camera was slung around her neck. She was spectacularly average in almost every way, except for one. Donna had an exotic look about her. Perhaps it was her cold hazel eyes or the tan skin, her mocha lips or her brunette hair. Perhaps it was her three nationalities serving her well in a genetic gold mind, but she could be pretty if she tried. Donna Kingsley however did not try. She didn't see the point. The journalist didn't judge woman who dressed in revealing dresses and flaunt themselves all over any male species, but Donna didn't own nice clothes. She didn't like them. It felt like an alien skin and in all honesty, when push came to shove, she had no troubles picking up somebody. This was due to her nature. Donna Kingsley was a relentless woman. She went after what she wanted. Shifting uncomfortably, she stared off into space as she let the Wasp's manager prattle on. Her eyes wandered across the skyline, following the high rise buildings and listening enviously to the sounds of laughter inside. The party was getting in its prime.
She knew she had been out here for two hours.
"Robert."
Donna smiled, her lips curling up in a small smirk. Her quill stopped and she could have sworn that her hand was cramped, even though it had been self-writing.
"You are fucking boring me."
Her voice spoke with a concise and direct manner. The woman had a lot of nerve. No one in their right mind would talk to the manager who had hired them for a month to cover exclusive Quidditch news, but Donna did. She was brave and sometimes a little too forward in her brash actions. If she had been anyone else, she would have been fired on the spot. No manager would put up with that kind of crap, but it was Donna who had all the cards and Bob knew it. The famous knew they needed the journalist for their next dose. Robert Bennett looked shocked, gasping mid-sentence and almost choked on his hundred dollar champagne. Oh yes, no expensive had been spared. Not like they were paying for it. Donna knew that too. These little events ran sponsorships dry, grabbing all the money out of the bank first day for some kind of lavish party. Sponsors turned a blind eye, as long as their team won. That's why she was so important. Winning made money and with money, came bragging rights and superiority. If the Wasps convinced everyone they were winning, even if they lost, no one could lose and she was the only journalist with the power to do that. Until that day, money would be thrown around like it would never end and if she failed at her job, then the season and the player's fate was sealed. No more Wasps for the rest of the year. No Quidditch cup. No more parties, late nights and out of control scandals. They would be forced back to shame, until the money was recovered.
"I..I...I...umm...guess we should get back to the party, then?"
He stuttered and she had to suppress a snort of mocking laughter. The great car salesman Bob Bennett was stuttering, questioning her for permission. He looked lost for a moment as if she had pushed his world off its axis completely.
"You think, Bennett?"
Donna sarcastically remarked, biting him with her edgy attitude. Jutting her hips, noticing his slight eye drop before placing her arm on it, staring him down.
"If you want to keep talking, do so, Robert but no one comes for you. They come for that."
She gestured behind her to the thumping music and loud sounds of a roaring social event.
"No one fucking gives too shits about your little strategies and how fucking huge Miss Beauffon's tits are. "
"I...I...I did...didn't...say --
"Cut the crap, Bennett. You want her so bad. I think I see some drool on your chin. Seriously, you're the manager of the Wimbourne Wasps. Stop wasting your time talking to me and prove yourself to them."
She almost scoffed at him and watched as his eyes bulged, shocked and flaccid. She had given him a pep talk like a coach for some kind of Muggle baseball team.
"Smile."
Donna phased rudely, took a photo which she reminded herself to use in the final published article and turned on the spot. She wasn't going to be wasting any more time on Bob Bennett and his little corrupt fantasies. She had her own obsessions to fulfil within the party. Miss Beauffons’ big breasts could be published another day, preferably naked in a fashion magazine. The Asian shook the cold out of her muscles, reached the glass door and pulled it open, unleashing the kraken of parties. The music swept into the balcony, the warm air kissing her skin like a blessing. The paper lanterns swayed as confetti rolled out in the gust of wind. She felt truly lucky to be here. It was feast of famous people. She had an orgasm with exquisite pleasure. Her eyes widen over the sight revealed before her. The red carpet, the glitter spread everywhere, champagne glasses tinkering together. The room was filled with the glamourous people, dressed in tuxedos and flimsily dresses. They were broken into smaller groups; clichés of people they liked. The Ballycastle players stuck together, eying their competition. The Irish team was at the bar, doing firewhiskey shots. The Nordic teams were in the corner, looking sully. It was a buffet of woman and men for Donna to choose. Her heartbeat quicken, leaving behind Bennett and entered another world.
Donna Kingsley moved like a ghost in the crowd of the people. She didn’t exist in their eyes and she made herself seem almost invisible to them. She squeezed between players, avoiding the fans that seemed to be having a heart attack. She scanned the party. It felt unrealistic as if made from a hollow dream, surrendering her to false feelings of wonder. The event was beautiful. No expensive had been spared. There was a refinement about the entire thing. The aroma of the food made her drunk, their laughter made her feel appreciated. She could feel herself getting lost in here, her head spinning. It made her feel like she was living in some other kind of life entirely. She felt people bump into her, but they didn't stop. Donna was nobody here, and although she had affected some of the careers, to them, she was just a name; just like they were her facade. She was punch drunk with lust for them. She felt the blood pulse faster through her veins, her pupils dilate as she was high. Wetting her lips with her tongue, she breathed in the air, letting herself become overdose. It was too much. It was like heaven.
But things weren’t built to last and her fantasies came to abrupt halt.
It was only a matter of time before she would find him. Her eyes were tuned to his figure and she scurried across the room, prowling after him like a tiger in heat. Jax Hades, up to his old tricks. Donna watched as he led the mysterious woman into a corner, she watched with jealousy burning her alive as he pressed his lips into her neck. The horrible feeling churned in her stomach and found herself hating it. She needed to be the whore on the wall, only because he was famous. She found herself full with regret. If she hadn’t made him, he would still be in the Chudley Cannons. Her cold eyes watched as he peeled up her dress and take the woman with divine ecstasy. She felt flushed and moved in closer. Grasping her camera tightly, the journalist approached unseen. She could move invisibly when she wanted. A devilish grin falling over her lips. She was bare centimeters from them, hearing the pants in her ears, seeing their grinding hips in the darkness. She could smell the allure of sex and with a press; the flash went off, followed by a squeal of disapproval. The mysterious woman shivering and cowering from view.
“I’ve see you haven’t changed, Mr Hades.”
So brutal like a knife, piercing straight into the chaser. She wanted to cut him, deep but he loved it. He turned his face to her, smiled and begun to pose, pressing himself into the woman harder and more forceful. She obliged him, taking a few more snaps. Once he had his fun, he tucked himself back into his pants and the woman ran off in shame.
"Miss Kingsley, see you have nothing better to do but stalk me."
She was bitter with resentment about that little comment. Donna wished she was strong, that she could resist him. She dropped her camera, letting the object swing and drop into her chest. The only defence she had was denial.
“Ha, you wish, Mr Hades. What page would you like this little indiscretion on this time?”
The man moved into her, so close but so far and she could taste the sex on his skin. She felt the hunger grow in her as she drew closer to him. Her body ached for an inch of it, drinking in his aroma. She felt dazzled and out of control. She tried to pull out of it but he kept demanding her attention. Her eyes follow his smirk.
”The first page.”
Jax need what to say and with those fate words, her world went crumbling. She felt her knees go weak and herself become hot with desire. She almost wanted to throw herself at him, but found an inch of respect, pulling herself out of their heated moment. She shook her head and felt enraged. Donna Kingsley didn’t like being put in the position of weakness. She didn’t like being toyed with. She moved away from him quickly, trying to sober herself up. Tension and frustration built up in her small frame, as she felt her head finally coming back to their senses. She needed to let it all go. She wanted a release.
Standing still, seeking solace by herself, Donna Kingsley begun searching the crowd for a victim. Her eyes trailed over to the O’ Connor’s. She considered it for a moment but shrugged it off. She wanted something fresh. Her eyes found a yellow dress, silking over all the woman curves contained in them. She felt her lust growl with appreciation as she imagined her hands on them. She trailed over the backside, around the hips and up the smooth stomach. The woman seemed too good for truth. Donna Kingsley wasn’t picky when it came to her sexual appetite, as long as they were famous. She sighed with need at the breasts toppling in the outfit. The ample and soft skin needing to be felt. This woman, whoever it was, was screaming for something more than attention. She was screaming for a good fuck. Donna could do that, if enough alcohol was in the mix. She begun considering her chances with the woman, but all thoughts were quickly erased as three things came alight. The journalist had been staring at her figure too long that she didn’t realise she was actually walking towards the object of affection. She also hadn’t noticed the skinny brut of man candy on the lady’s arm or the fact it was Miss Camilla Beauffon. Once she was close enough, her bravery failed her and she casually squeezed passed the woman, bumping her intentionally. It sound make perfect sense why Robert Bennett wanted the chaser. She scoffed at herself for her lapse of judgment.
That’s when she saw him.
Ling Fae, walking his way straight to her. He was perfect. She needed to destroy someone, like she had been corrupted by Jax Hades. Donna needed her revenge. This gay boy could be her toy thing. The man looked so proud of himself, so vain in his appearance. The journalist couldn't wait to see his facade crumble in a heap once she was done with him. He was all smiles now, but soon he would suffocate under the pressure she would put him under. The Daily Prophet would snicker at his pathetic attempts to be a Quidditch player, they would mock his honest and humble roots. They would destroy him. Donna Kingsley needed that. She wanted to watch this man burn down to the ground, stomp on the ashes. The Asian woman didn't care. He was gay. His sexual appeal and therefore fame was completely useless. She adjusted her shirt and faked her smile before casually, and very purposefully standing in his way so he bumped into her. This time, however, she refused to be ignored.
"Good Evening Ling Fae, Daily Prophet. You said some brave things today at the press release."
Start with a compliment. Get him relaxed and comfortable. Of course she was cunning enough to not mention her name. She didn't want him to have any advantage over her.
"Not many homosexual men would made such a statement. Are you hoping to act as an inspiration in the gay community?"
The word 'homosexual' seemed to slip between her lips with poisonous hatred, but her tone was friendly and bright. Donna didn't seem invasive. She tried to portray innocent, wide eye and generally interested. She wanted him to trust her, to spill all of his secrets to her.
"Are you hoping that you'll be the first gay man to win the Player of the Year?"
She posed this question with more intrigue.
"Your competition seems pretty heavy for that, especially amongst the team. Jax Hades seems to have you beat in almost everything you've done. How did it feel losing scoring points at last year's Arrow's game against the Wasps?"
It was only a matter of time until she brought out the whip and her sharpest cut. Ling Fae had lost out to Jax in that match. His chaser skills were brought under heavy criticism, as many felt the young blood should have won against the old champion of past. But when push had come to shove, Fae had come up short. He wasn't the best and Donna did her very best to remind him of this, in her sweetest tone ever.
"Do you enjoy being second best?
Quill at the ready, ready to unravel his confidence for the fragile truth it was.
Donna Kingsley would do what she was good at; being the mistress whore of scandal.
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